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 Andorra and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Television Personalities to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Rites of Spring,
The Blues Magoos,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Cramps,
Rufus Thomas,
the Soft Cell,
Warren Ellis,
R.M.O.,
The Saints,
The Fall,
Minor Threat,
Dual Sessions,
Malaria!,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cal Tjader,
This Heat,
Boredoms,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Anakelly,
T. Rex,
the Fania All-Stars,
Can,
The Dirtbombs,
The Slits,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-101,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ornette Coleman,
H. Thieme,
Desert Stars,
Magma,
Banda Bassotti,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sunsets and Hearts,
U.S. Maple,
Flash Fearless,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Icehouse,
The Sound,
La Düsseldorf,
Maleditus Sound,
Glambeats Corp.,
D'Angelo,
Arcadia,
Cameo,
Howard Jones,
Eurythmics,
Section 25,
Lou Christie,
Yellowson,
Tom Boy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jacob Miller,
Soul Sonic Force,
DNA,
World's Most,
Funkadelic,
Danielle Patucci,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.