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 Suriname and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
T. Rex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
a-ha,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Byrd,
The Pretty Things,
Alphaville,
June Days,
Harry Pussy,
Ornette Coleman,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kayak,
The Monks,
Wasted Youth,
Dead Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harmonia,
Erasure,
Fear,
Eddi Front,
MDC,
The Young Rascals,
Black Moon,
Sight & Sound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Toni Rubio,
Rites of Spring,
Bluetip,
Idris Muhammad,
Aural Exciters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Steve Hackett,
ABBA,
Thee Headcoats,
Schoolly D,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aloha Tigers,
Dave Gahan,
Loose Ends,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Christie,
Faust,
The Vogues,
The Golliwogs,
Gabor Szabo,
The Toasters,
Joyce Sims,
Parry Music,
John Foxx,
Infiniti,
Funky Four + One,
Erykah Badu,
David Bowie,
Jeff Lynne,
E-Dancer,
Barclay James Harvest,
Saccharine Trust,
Ludus,
Howard Jones,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Unrelated Segments,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.