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 Peru and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 chamberlin 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 Liliput to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Q and Not U,
Crime,
Wire,
The Sound,
Babytalk,
Schoolly D,
The Raincoats,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eddi Front,
Intrusion,
The Remains,
A Certain Ratio,
The Angels of Light,
Banda Bassotti,
Nico,
Gregory Isaacs,
Alton Ellis,
Lalann,
Can,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Icehouse,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minny Pops,
Pagans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Avey Tare,
The Detroit Cobras,
The American Breed,
Gang Green,
The Trojans,
Robert Görl,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Cramps,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Angry Samoans,
Agent Orange,
Dennis Brown,
Arab on Radar,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roy Ayers,
Rites of Spring,
Scan 7,
T.S.O.L.,
The Pretty Things,
Davy DMX,
Black Moon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Byron Stingily,
Harpers Bizarre,
Organ,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gang Gang Dance,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Golliwogs,
One Last Wish,
Clear Light,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.