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 Tanzania and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Harry Pussy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Rosa Yemen,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Gladiators,
EPMD,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Red Krayola,
The Knickerbockers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
CMW,
Lee Hazlewood,
Graham Central Station,
Shuggie Otis,
Gang Starr,
Carl Craig,
The Toasters,
Yellowson,
Soft Cell,
Groovy Waters,
Pole,
Average White Band,
Hot Snakes,
Bill Near,
Terry Callier,
Arab on Radar,
John Holt,
Infiniti,
Severed Heads,
Boogie Down Productions,
Skarface,
The Monks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aswad,
Harry Pussy,
Suicide,
The Slackers,
Easy Going,
Tropical Tobacco,
Popol Vuh,
Half Japanese,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sam Rivers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joy Division,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Zero Boys,
Colin Newman,
Absolute Body Control,
Ash Ra Tempel,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Connie Case,
B.T. Express,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fortunes,
Mandrill,
Magazine,
The Velvet Underground,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.