Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Senegal and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Arthur Verocai to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
The Vogues,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Audionom,
Rekid,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joe Smooth,
Joensuu 1685,
Pussy Galore,
Faust,
Harmonia,
Basic Channel,
The Birthday Party,
Goldenarms,
The Moody Blues,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bauhaus,
Angry Samoans,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Standells,
the Fania All-Stars,
Freddie Wadling,
Althea and Donna,
Young Marble Giants,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
The Martian,
The New Christs,
Fear,
Popol Vuh,
The Remains,
Rakim,
Infiniti,
Minny Pops,
Blancmange,
Masters at Work,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Godley & Creme,
Pagans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Index,
Connie Case,
Suicide,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sight & Sound,
Cameo,
Grauzone,
Boz Scaggs,
Sonic Youth,
Depeche Mode,
Soul II Soul,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Al Stewart,
Joy Division,
Tomorrow,
Black Sheep,
Nirvana,
Flipper,
Crispian St. Peters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crash Course in Science,
John Foxx,
Oneida,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.