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 Seychelles and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin 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 Scion to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Pierre Henry,
Newcleus,
The Five Americans,
Mandrill,
The Standells,
The Blackbyrds,
Bill Near,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jacques Brel,
DNA,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rapeman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sparks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
John Holt,
The Zeros,
Delta 5,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crash Course in Science,
The Velvet Underground,
Symarip,
Harry Pussy,
Radiohead,
Skriet,
Juan Atkins,
The Tremeloes,
Organ,
Skarface,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lightning Bolt,
In Retrospect,
Faust,
Junior Murvin,
The Mummies,
Brick,
The Victims,
Reuben Wilson,
Pylon,
Rakim,
Roy Ayers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tom Boy,
ABC,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sällskapet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Outsiders,
Robert Wyatt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Alphaville,
The Sound,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.