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 Korea North and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 guitar 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 Ludus to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Mark Hollis,
The Selecter,
Alice Coltrane,
Al Stewart,
Scion,
World's Most,
Patti Smith,
Mandrill,
Hardrive,
Sun City Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Underground Resistance,
The Martian,
John Cale,
Second Layer,
Bauhaus,
Roxette,
Pantytec,
Oneida,
CMW,
Crooked Eye,
Crash Course in Science,
Sexual Harrassment,
Suicide,
Laurel Aitken,
Pierre Henry,
The Doors,
The Grass Roots,
Judy Mowatt,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bobby Womack,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Busters,
The Fire Engines,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
OOIOO,
Jerry's Kids,
Minnie Riperton,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
B.T. Express,
Lalo Schifrin,
Royal Trux,
Echospace,
Wings,
The Human League,
Peter & Gordon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bush Tetras,
Faust,
Max Romeo,
The Dirtbombs,
Lyres,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Todd Rundgren,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Public Image Ltd.,
John Lydon,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.