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 Niger and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the crunk 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
The Searchers,
Vainqueur,
Second Layer,
Suicide,
The Cramps,
Gastr Del Sol,
Urselle,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gories,
KRS-One,
The Gun Club,
Monolake,
Amon Düül,
the Slits,
The Last Poets,
T. Rex,
Zapp,
Steve Hackett,
Siglo XX,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Mad Mike,
Minnie Riperton,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Brand Nubian,
Soft Cell,
Ten City,
Panda Bear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Moby Grape,
The Star Department,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Lydon,
Scratch Acid,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Human League,
Rosa Yemen,
X-101,
Carl Craig,
Anakelly,
Boz Scaggs,
the Association,
Slick Rick,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crash Course in Science,
F. McDonald,
Fear,
One Last Wish,
Janne Schatter,
China Crisis,
Howard Jones,
Tommy Roe,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Peter and Kerry,
Bob Dylan,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.