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 Barbados and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar 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 The Dirtbombs to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Smog,
Juan Atkins,
Josef K,
The Kinks,
Barry Ungar,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Malaria!,
Sixth Finger,
John Coltrane,
Brick,
Shoche,
Jacob Miller,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Neil Young,
Sight & Sound,
John Cale,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ponytail,
The Young Rascals,
Bluetip,
Agent Orange,
Magazine,
Fela Kuti,
Crash Course in Science,
The Associates,
Quadrant,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lungfish,
X-101,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bush Tetras,
Silicon Teens,
Livin' Joy,
Laurel Aitken,
Scott Walker,
The Litter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lindisfarne,
Moby Grape,
Howard Jones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dawn Penn,
Skarface,
Gichy Dan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Glenn Branca,
Prince Buster,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare,
Andrew Hill,
Joey Negro,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Clear Light,
Sparks,
K-Klass,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Roxy Music,
Danielle Patucci,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.