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 Botswana and from Manila.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Real Kids to the punk 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Albert Ayler,
Spoonie Gee,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Johnny Clarke,
Crooked Eye,
Dark Day,
The Blues Magoos,
Jacques Brel,
Mr. Review,
Man Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Harry Pussy,
James White and The Blacks,
The Golliwogs,
kango's stein massive,
Matthew Bourne,
Agitation Free,
Fugazi,
The United States of America,
Altered Images,
Massinfluence,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Hood,
R.M.O.,
Charles Mingus,
David McCallum,
Jacob Miller,
Gang Starr,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Bananas,
Brass Construction,
Make Up,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
EPMD,
Barbara Tucker,
Adolescents,
Sister Nancy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rufus Thomas,
Erykah Badu,
Kerri Chandler,
Soul II Soul,
Pagans,
Henry Cow,
Stetsasonic,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ornette Coleman,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Busters,
B.T. Express,
Nas,
La Düsseldorf,
Leonard Cohen,
Nico,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amazonics,
Television Personalities,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.