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 Ukraine 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Cymande to the dance 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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Malaria!,
Gang Gang Dance,
Minutemen,
Black Moon,
Pussy Galore,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Sheep,
In Retrospect,
Donald Byrd,
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
B.T. Express,
The Golliwogs,
Al Stewart,
Erykah Badu,
X-101,
Man Eating Sloth,
Matthew Bourne,
Joyce Sims,
The Fortunes,
Wings,
Mission of Burma,
Stiv Bators,
Radio Birdman,
Black Flag,
Chrome,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Amon Düül,
The Names,
Theoretical Girls,
Davy DMX,
The Pop Group,
Jandek,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tim Buckley,
Animal Collective,
Ossler,
Moby Grape,
Siglo XX,
Thee Headcoats,
Marcia Griffiths,
Outsiders,
Bang On A Can,
The Victims,
The Dave Clark Five,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Zeros,
Scrapy,
The Remains,
Dawn Penn,
F. McDonald,
The Five Americans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yaz,
Hashim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lebanon Hanover,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.