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 Tanzania and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Hot Snakes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lyres. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Ten City,
Dave Gahan,
Quando Quango,
The Fall,
Skaos,
China Crisis,
The Victims,
Marvin Gaye,
Television Personalities,
Lower 48,
Deakin,
John Foxx,
The Motions,
Barrington Levy,
Theoretical Girls,
The Last Poets,
Leonard Cohen,
Joyce Sims,
Henry Cow,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fire Engines,
Sonny Sharrock,
Harry Pussy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Public Enemy,
Das Ding,
Cheater Slicks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Colin Newman,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Sheep,
Bill Near,
Main Source,
Isaac Hayes,
Morten Harket,
Radiopuhelimet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Andrew Hill,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marine Girls,
The Zeros,
Mr. Review,
Newcleus,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Soul II Soul,
Royal Trux,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bauhaus,
Tubeway Army,
The Music Machine,
Black Pus,
cv313,
Procol Harum,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Freddie Wadling,
A Certain Ratio,
Yellowson,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.