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 Iraq and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Angry Samoans to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
R.M.O.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
Harry Pussy,
Flash Fearless,
Quadrant,
X-Ray Spex,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Toasters,
the Swans,
Silicon Teens,
the Normal,
Soul Sonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Warsaw,
Ituana,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wings,
Boogie Down Productions,
Stiv Bators,
PIL,
the Soft Cell,
Gastr Del Sol,
Connie Case,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Barry Ungar,
The Detroit Cobras,
Talk Talk,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dead C,
Faraquet,
The Neon Judgement,
Idris Muhammad,
Animal Collective,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Music Machine,
Barrington Levy,
Wally Richardson,
Yellowson,
48th St. Collective,
John Cale,
Von Mondo,
The Five Americans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Hasil Adkins,
Main Source,
Agitation Free,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bauhaus,
The Move,
Scratch Acid,
Sight & Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Wolf Eyes,
Mary Jane Girls,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.