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 Syria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Litter 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Intrusion,
Von Mondo,
Quantec,
Eden Ahbez,
The Standells,
EPMD,
The Human League,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Associates,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grauzone,
Joyce Sims,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Index,
Barry Ungar,
The Tremeloes,
T. Rex,
Faraquet,
Oblivians,
The Red Krayola,
Arcadia,
Audionom,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Newcleus,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gun Club,
Lightning Bolt,
Tears for Fears,
The Seeds,
Inner City,
Robert Hood,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Godley & Creme,
Lungfish,
Cameo,
Wolf Eyes,
Tomorrow,
Mad Mike,
The Fire Engines,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jeff Lynne,
Robert Görl,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gang Green,
Matthew Bourne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sällskapet,
Skaos,
The Slits,
Mary Jane Girls,
Davy DMX,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Alarm Clocks,
R.M.O.,
The Smiths,
Marc Almond,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.