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 Afghanistan and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Manila.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Neu! to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Slick Rick,
Heaven 17,
Black Sheep,
Grey Daturas,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Babytalk,
The Tremeloes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Man Eating Sloth,
Carl Craig,
Dead Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
Surgeon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
FM Einheit,
The Cure,
Scan 7,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thee Headcoats,
David Axelrod,
Fluxion,
Alton Ellis,
Quadrant,
Liliput,
Nik Kershaw,
Erykah Badu,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fuzztones,
Rod Modell,
Morten Harket,
Black Flag,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eli Mardock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Pretty Things,
Wasted Youth,
The Index,
Robert Görl,
Glenn Branca,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scratch Acid,
Joy Division,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Stooges,
Youth Brigade,
In Retrospect,
Symarip,
Todd Rundgren,
Lebanon Hanover,
Stiv Bators,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aswad,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fugs,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Neon Judgement,
Moby Grape,
Boz Scaggs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.