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 Indonesia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Slick Rick to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Christie. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Kinks,
Sonic Youth,
Hardrive,
Shoche,
Blancmange,
Absolute Body Control,
Bill Near,
Thompson Twins,
The Birthday Party,
The Move,
The Remains,
Joe Smooth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry's Kids,
Reuben Wilson,
Byron Stingily,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jeff Lynne,
Tommy Roe,
The Associates,
Khruangbin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Amon Düül,
Severed Heads,
The Skatalites,
Desert Stars,
Janne Schatter,
Rapeman,
Morten Harket,
The Star Department,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stetsasonic,
Bush Tetras,
Bootsy Collins,
Essential Logic,
Godley & Creme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marmalade,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Human League,
Hot Snakes,
Franke,
The Last Poets,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Liliput,
Procol Harum,
Sound Behaviour,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Masters at Work,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Theoretical Girls,
Henry Cow,
Darondo,
Vainqueur,
The Pretty Things,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gong,
Johnny Clarke,
Kaleidoscope,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.