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 Lesotho and from Winnipeg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Joy Division to the rock 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Desert Stars,
Supertramp,
Flipper,
The Gories,
Mo-Dettes,
Piero Umiliani,
The Selecter,
Accadde A,
The New Christs,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Neu!,
Deadbeat,
Pagans,
Soulsonic Force,
Eric B and Rakim,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Hot Snakes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jawbox,
Cal Tjader,
The Durutti Column,
Swans,
Scott Walker,
The Remains,
Icehouse,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Seeds,
R.M.O.,
New Age Steppers,
Buzzcocks,
David Axelrod,
Nick Fraelich,
Alphaville,
The Birthday Party,
The Mojo Men,
Theoretical Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
New York Dolls,
Thompson Twins,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Banda Bassotti,
Au Pairs,
Neil Young,
Inner City,
the Slits,
Nils Olav,
Reuben Wilson,
Grey Daturas,
Adolescents,
Rufus Thomas,
Derrick May,
Ice-T,
Bill Wells,
The Saints,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Count Five,
Arab on Radar,
Scan 7,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.