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 Marshall Islands and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Beau Brummels to the electroclash 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Spoonie Gee,
Liliput,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smiths,
Gong,
Lower 48,
Aswad,
Lindisfarne,
Severed Heads,
The Misunderstood,
Yazoo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Loose Ends,
The Knickerbockers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Josef K,
The Selecter,
Scientists,
Grauzone,
Harmonia,
Underground Resistance,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Laurel Aitken,
The Gun Club,
Accadde A,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thompson Twins,
Slick Rick,
Eve St. Jones,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Residents,
The Cramps,
Bobby Sherman,
Man Parrish,
Soul Sonic Force,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Pretty Things,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sound Behaviour,
Suicide,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ituana,
Reagan Youth,
Marine Girls,
Parry Music,
Urselle,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Banda Bassotti,
Camouflage,
The Cure,
Negative Approach,
Crime,
Kayak,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Grass Roots,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.