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 Romania and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Nils Olav to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
the Normal,
David Axelrod,
Donald Byrd,
Sun City Girls,
Arcadia,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Swans,
Youth Brigade,
Chris & Cosey,
Freddie Wadling,
Joyce Sims,
The Wake,
Masters at Work,
Fat Boys,
Henry Cow,
Skaos,
Crooked Eye,
The Evens,
Wolf Eyes,
Hoover,
Harmonia,
The Moleskins,
The Walker Brothers,
B.T. Express,
The Motions,
Khruangbin,
Altered Images,
Minny Pops,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gastr Del Sol,
Shoche,
John Foxx,
Peter and Kerry,
Tears for Fears,
La Düsseldorf,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Technova,
the Human League,
Little Man,
The Five Americans,
Lou Reed,
Groovy Waters,
The Velvet Underground,
Funkadelic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jacques Brel,
Nas,
Soft Machine,
Royal Trux,
The Stooges,
Loose Ends,
Yaz,
Oneida,
Ossler,
Nirvana,
The Angels of Light,
Index,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Avey Tare,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.