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 Uzbekistan and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Archie Shepp to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama 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?
Darondo,
Pussy Galore,
Ituana,
Andrew Hill,
Marmalade,
Jeff Mills,
Livin' Joy,
Con Funk Shun,
Ultravox,
John Holt,
Bobby Womack,
The Pretty Things,
ABBA,
The Gladiators,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bluetip,
B.T. Express,
The Fire Engines,
Scrapy,
Y Pants,
Camouflage,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Sherman,
Duran Duran,
Morten Harket,
Pere Ubu,
Subhumans,
Bizarre Inc.,
Loose Ends,
Wally Richardson,
Technova,
FM Einheit,
Eli Mardock,
Tubeway Army,
Kerri Chandler,
Audionom,
The Real Kids,
The Cramps,
Das Ding,
The Music Machine,
Fatback Band,
The Barracudas,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
kango's stein massive,
Howard Jones,
Kevin Saunderson,
Can,
Grandmaster Flash,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Flipper,
Tres Demented,
The Victims,
Masters at Work,
The Sonics,
The Doors,
Schoolly D,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Black Dice,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Porter Ricks,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.