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 Dominican Republic and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin 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 Doobie Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
Harmonia,
The Sonics,
The American Breed,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sister Nancy,
The Seeds,
Kaleidoscope,
Cal Tjader,
Wings,
The United States of America,
Roy Ayers,
The Associates,
KRS-One,
Joyce Sims,
Lightning Bolt,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Howard Jones,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Tres Demented,
Gang of Four,
The Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Alison Limerick,
Japan,
a-ha,
Susan Cadogan,
The Last Poets,
Roger Hodgson,
Alphaville,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sparks,
Monolake,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Toasters,
Aswad,
Tears for Fears,
Main Source,
Boogie Down Productions,
Joey Negro,
In Retrospect,
Smog,
The Move,
Arab on Radar,
Wolf Eyes,
Groovy Waters,
Pantaleimon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Second Layer,
Section 25,
The Black Dice,
Blake Baxter,
Junior Murvin,
June of 44,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.