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 Liberia and from Seoul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grunge 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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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 Motions,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
T.S.O.L.,
The Mummies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Al Stewart,
The Blackbyrds,
The Associates,
Sparks,
Eden Ahbez,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lindisfarne,
John Foxx,
Second Layer,
Barry Ungar,
Oneida,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Moebius,
Alison Limerick,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Victims,
John Cale,
L. Decosne,
Lakeside,
Urselle,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Toasters,
Lungfish,
Gichy Dan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Amon Düül II,
Japan,
Masters at Work,
Sun Ra,
F. McDonald,
Das Ding,
Harpers Bizarre,
Traffic Nightmare,
Don Cherry,
John Holt,
Connie Case,
Shoche,
Nils Olav,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Names,
Jandek,
Blancmange,
Joe Finger,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minor Threat,
The Monochrome Set,
Mad Mike,
The Divine Comedy,
Q and Not U,
Vainqueur,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marmalade,
Main Source,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rekid,
Cymande,
The Angels of Light,
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.