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 Slovakia and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Inner City,
Fluxion,
Aswad,
Man Parrish,
Mr. Review,
B.T. Express,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Khruangbin,
Arcadia,
Rapeman,
Leonard Cohen,
the Slits,
Royal Trux,
Gang Starr,
Chrome,
Bill Near,
kango's stein massive,
The Dirtbombs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pylon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eric Dolphy,
Monolake,
Easy Going,
Supertramp,
Cameo,
Skaos,
Popol Vuh,
Moby Grape,
Gang of Four,
New York Dolls,
Masters at Work,
Hardrive,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brick,
Wasted Youth,
Laurel Aitken,
Aural Exciters,
World's Most,
Sällskapet,
Pere Ubu,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lucky Dragons,
Boogie Down Productions,
Al Stewart,
Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
Malaria!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wings,
Unwound,
JFA,
Cheater Slicks,
Lower 48,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Camouflage,
The New Christs,
Iggy Pop,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.