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 Grenada and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Malaria! to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Susan Cadogan,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gladiators,
Smog,
Goldenarms,
Sixth Finger,
Pylon,
The United States of America,
Roxy Music,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rapeman,
Spoonie Gee,
Nik Kershaw,
Graham Central Station,
Accadde A,
cv313,
Juan Atkins,
The Associates,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barclay James Harvest,
Matthew Halsall,
Con Funk Shun,
Lee Hazlewood,
Youth Brigade,
Crime,
Peter and Kerry,
DJ Style,
Lyres,
Charles Mingus,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Byrd,
Hardrive,
Sun City Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Circle Jerks,
Bill Near,
Lou Reed,
The Pop Group,
The Searchers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ohio Players,
Mark Hollis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Iggy Pop,
Lightning Bolt,
Yaz,
Y Pants,
Television,
Wasted Youth,
New York Dolls,
The Standells,
Sun Ra,
The Dirtbombs,
Liliput,
These Immortal Souls,
Gichy Dan,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smiths,
Monolake,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.