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 Malawi and from Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Adolescents,
Blossom Toes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Green,
Accadde A,
Frankie Knuckles,
Procol Harum,
The Neon Judgement,
Talk Talk,
The Zeros,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mark Hollis,
Agent Orange,
Average White Band,
Iggy Pop,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Severed Heads,
The Beau Brummels,
Piero Umiliani,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Hardrive,
Silicon Teens,
Icehouse,
Morten Harket,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Buckinghams,
B.T. Express,
Arab on Radar,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Moleskins,
Brothers Johnson,
Joe Smooth,
Charles Mingus,
Peter and Kerry,
Roger Hodgson,
Faust,
Sugar Minott,
Hashim,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Durutti Column,
Susan Cadogan,
Suicide,
Aswad,
Tears for Fears,
The Busters,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angry Samoans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Youth Brigade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Spandau Ballet,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dead Boys,
Carl Craig,
Yellowson,
EPMD,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.