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 Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Hasil Adkins to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
The Buckinghams,
The Gun Club,
Technova,
The Star Department,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bluetip,
The Black Dice,
Bill Wells,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Chrome,
FM Einheit,
Popol Vuh,
Country Teasers,
Arcadia,
Bauhaus,
Roxy Music,
New York Dolls,
Mr. Review,
The Beau Brummels,
Sun Ra,
Con Funk Shun,
China Crisis,
Jeff Lynne,
The Barracudas,
Subhumans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Drexciya,
Alton Ellis,
Fatback Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Alphaville,
Terry Callier,
Wasted Youth,
Quantec,
MC5,
Second Layer,
CMW,
The Golliwogs,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eli Mardock,
Scratch Acid,
Wally Richardson,
Echospace,
Sonic Youth,
The Leaves,
Newcleus,
Bronski Beat,
Ponytail,
Harpers Bizarre,
David Axelrod,
Banda Bassotti,
Quando Quango,
Godley & Creme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wolf Eyes,
Laurel Aitken,
Wire,
Slick Rick,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.