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 Tonga and from Bologna.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bill Wells to the punk 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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths 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?
These Immortal Souls,
Dark Day,
Don Cherry,
Wolf Eyes,
Smog,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brand Nubian,
Section 25,
Max Romeo,
48th St. Collective,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kaleidoscope,
Hot Snakes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quantec,
John Lydon,
Sixth Finger,
The Monks,
Susan Cadogan,
Fat Boys,
Theoretical Girls,
Thompson Twins,
The Five Americans,
Chris Corsano,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-101,
Nick Fraelich,
R.M.O.,
The Fugs,
the Soft Cell,
Black Bananas,
Sex Pistols,
Peter and Kerry,
Circle Jerks,
Outsiders,
Yazoo,
Mandrill,
Laurel Aitken,
Young Marble Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
Negative Approach,
Intrusion,
A Certain Ratio,
Scion,
The Birthday Party,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Clear Light,
Anakelly,
La Düsseldorf,
Desert Stars,
Josef K,
Sugar Minott,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Selecter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sällskapet,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Danielle Patucci,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.