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 Croatia 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Outsiders to the funk 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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sex Pistols,
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Angels of Light,
Audionom,
Whodini,
Tubeway Army,
Blancmange,
Jacques Brel,
Panda Bear,
Stereo Dub,
Yellowson,
This Heat,
Hardrive,
Wolf Eyes,
The Toasters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joensuu 1685,
Pussy Galore,
DNA,
The Monks,
Robert Hood,
Smog,
Cheater Slicks,
The Last Poets,
Quantec,
the Swans,
Radiohead,
Derrick Morgan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Circle Jerks,
Adolescents,
KRS-One,
Reagan Youth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kenny Larkin,
The Offenders,
Sun Ra,
The Real Kids,
Maurizio,
Can,
Slick Rick,
ABBA,
Mo-Dettes,
Donny Hathaway,
Intrusion,
Severed Heads,
Simply Red,
Judy Mowatt,
Radio Birdman,
Blake Baxter,
The American Breed,
Man Parrish,
Wire,
Roxette,
Funkadelic,
Dual Sessions,
James White and The Blacks,
Ice-T,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.