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 France and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Alarm Clocks to the crunk 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks 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?
The Martian,
James White and The Blacks,
Crash Course in Science,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sister Nancy,
Rakim,
Chrome,
Gang Green,
Popol Vuh,
Yaz,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Angels of Light,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sixth Finger,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Zeros,
Duran Duran,
K-Klass,
Grauzone,
Motorama,
Massinfluence,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tom Boy,
Blancmange,
Kenny Larkin,
Peter and Kerry,
Newcleus,
Banda Bassotti,
Zapp,
Amon Düül,
Blossom Toes,
Jacques Brel,
Bush Tetras,
Country Joe & The Fish,
UT,
Kerri Chandler,
Aaron Thompson,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cramps,
Pole,
Mars,
X-Ray Spex,
Lyres,
Kas Product,
Rufus Thomas,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rod Modell,
Shoche,
Au Pairs,
Quadrant,
The Happenings,
Young Marble Giants,
The Mojo Men,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Camouflage,
Kurtis Blow,
Hasil Adkins,
Grey Daturas,
Ornette Coleman,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.