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 Nepal and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mission of Burma to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Unwound,
Joe Finger,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Germs,
Amon Düül II,
Reagan Youth,
Pantaleimon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Raincoats,
Sun City Girls,
Lakeside,
Technova,
The Kinks,
The Fall,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
Make Up,
Danielle Patucci,
Electric Prunes,
Joensuu 1685,
Qualms,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
OOIOO,
Mad Mike,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Subhumans,
Eve St. Jones,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gun Club,
Rhythm & Sound,
X-Ray Spex,
The Names,
Chris Corsano,
Fear,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Swans,
Albert Ayler,
Laurel Aitken,
Johnny Clarke,
Colin Newman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
JFA,
Ken Boothe,
The Mojo Men,
Al Stewart,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roger Hodgson,
One Last Wish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Smog,
DJ Sneak,
ABC,
The Evens,
Marvin Gaye,
Average White Band,
The Knickerbockers,
F. McDonald,
New Order,
Lightning Bolt,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.