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 South Africa and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cal Tjader to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo 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?
Severed Heads,
The Vogues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dark Day,
Bill Wells,
Minnie Riperton,
Rekid,
Young Marble Giants,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Howard Jones,
The Victims,
Graham Central Station,
Fat Boys,
Quando Quango,
Marmalade,
Mandrill,
Jeru the Damaja,
Metal Thangz,
Cluster,
Jacob Miller,
Blancmange,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Seeds,
Flash Fearless,
Sparks,
The Tremeloes,
the Sonics,
Peter and Kerry,
Negative Approach,
Funky Four + One,
R.M.O.,
Roxette,
Steve Hackett,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Don Cherry,
Aural Exciters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nick Fraelich,
Sugar Minott,
The Stooges,
Hashim,
Visage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tropical Tobacco,
Unwound,
Outsiders,
Easy Going,
Lakeside,
the Slits,
Alison Limerick,
The Zeros,
Little Man,
Magazine,
Ronnie Foster,
Judy Mowatt,
The Alarm Clocks,
The J.B.'s,
Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D, Schoolly D.
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.