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 Bahrain and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Michael McDonald 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 Camouflage 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Sly & The Family Stone,
R.M.O.,
The Searchers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Cale,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Man Parrish,
Gabor Szabo,
Robert Görl,
Deadbeat,
Amon Düül II,
Subhumans,
The Litter,
The Motions,
Lyres,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Angels of Light,
Black Pus,
Maurizio,
The Knickerbockers,
Saccharine Trust,
The Pretty Things,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Quantec,
Vainqueur,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lou Christie,
Gang of Four,
Severed Heads,
Cal Tjader,
David McCallum,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DNA,
AZ,
Howard Jones,
Moss Icon,
Spandau Ballet,
Nik Kershaw,
Ossler,
Marine Girls,
E-Dancer,
Das Ding,
The Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lightning Bolt,
Niagra,
The Residents,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Supertramp,
Kenny Larkin,
Godley & Creme,
X-102,
Bootsy Collins,
Soft Cell,
Gang Gang Dance,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Sheep,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.