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 Brunei and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 The Birthday Party to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Underground Resistance,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Heaven 17,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pussy Galore,
Smog,
Aaron Thompson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Soft Cell,
MDC,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Byrd,
T. Rex,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dave Gahan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pagans,
Franke,
The Cramps,
Technova,
Newcleus,
Idris Muhammad,
L. Decosne,
Lou Christie,
The Monks,
Vladislav Delay,
Susan Cadogan,
Khruangbin,
Black Flag,
Skarface,
Matthew Halsall,
The American Breed,
The Offenders,
Organ,
The Names,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cowsills,
Trumans Water,
The Vogues,
Byron Stingily,
Roger Hodgson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Parry Music,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hasil Adkins,
Index,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cymande,
Niagra,
Dorothy Ashby,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sight & Sound,
Glambeats Corp.,
June Days,
ABC,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Delta 5,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.