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 El Salvador and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Country Teasers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Masters at Work,
Hot Snakes,
Althea and Donna,
Ponytail,
Flamin' Groovies,
Faust,
The Tremeloes,
Jacob Miller,
Scan 7,
Hashim,
Trumans Water,
The Dead C,
Maleditus Sound,
E-Dancer,
MC5,
Altered Images,
Nirvana,
Talk Talk,
the Germs,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Sherman,
Roger Hodgson,
Prince Buster,
the Normal,
Gang Starr,
The Modern Lovers,
Khruangbin,
The Golliwogs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aural Exciters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Blues Magoos,
The Raincoats,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Yazoo,
The Music Machine,
Wings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Outsiders,
X-101,
Anakelly,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Zapp,
Metal Thangz,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thompson Twins,
Flash Fearless,
The Walker Brothers,
Skaos,
Basic Channel,
The Blackbyrds,
Theoretical Girls,
The Black Dice,
Monks,
Heaven 17,
Cluster,
A Certain Ratio,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.