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 Norway and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Moleskins to the jazz 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Bobby Womack,
Iggy Pop,
Sex Pistols,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hasil Adkins,
PIL,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fat Boys,
AZ,
Desert Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lalann,
Skarface,
The Black Dice,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sun City Girls,
Oneida,
The Dead C,
Minutemen,
The Misunderstood,
Rosa Yemen,
The Moleskins,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alice Coltrane,
Idris Muhammad,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scott Walker,
The Monochrome Set,
Television,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aaron Thompson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Minny Pops,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Man Parrish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Boz Scaggs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Byrd,
The Names,
Max Romeo,
Josef K,
The Walker Brothers,
Stiv Bators,
Tim Buckley,
Skriet,
Second Layer,
Archie Shepp,
Bluetip,
David Bowie,
The Young Rascals,
DNA,
Nirvana,
H. Thieme,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Inner City,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Zeros,
Radio Birdman,
Godley & Creme,
Sight & Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.