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 Belize and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Maleditus Sound to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Index,
Amon Düül II,
Wasted Youth,
Alison Limerick,
Absolute Body Control,
Johnny Clarke,
Colin Newman,
Stiv Bators,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Trojans,
The Beau Brummels,
Blossom Toes,
Mission of Burma,
Drexciya,
Second Layer,
The Stooges,
Iggy Pop,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Country Teasers,
The Fall,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Yazoo,
The Electric Prunes,
Nick Fraelich,
Avey Tare,
Jandek,
Lou Reed,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Bar-Kays,
Mad Mike,
Todd Rundgren,
Deadbeat,
The Tremeloes,
Stetsasonic,
the Sonics,
Soulsonic Force,
Sonic Youth,
Lalo Schifrin,
Khruangbin,
Kurtis Blow,
The Angels of Light,
Eve St. Jones,
New Age Steppers,
Whodini,
Main Source,
Reagan Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rekid,
E-Dancer,
Letta Mbulu,
The Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dave Gahan,
DNA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
D'Angelo,
Kas Product,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.