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 Kiribati and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacob Miller to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
The Misunderstood,
Whodini,
Wolf Eyes,
Pagans,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Young Rascals,
Alphaville,
Swell Maps,
Eric Copeland,
Gregory Isaacs,
Easy Going,
the Slits,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ice-T,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Arcadia,
Joy Division,
Bobby Sherman,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Byron Stingily,
The Monks,
Glenn Branca,
The Names,
Jawbox,
The Fuzztones,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Electric Prunes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
OOIOO,
LL Cool J,
Fluxion,
June of 44,
Lou Reed,
Ten City,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Hasil Adkins,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nik Kershaw,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-101,
Joyce Sims,
Au Pairs,
Spandau Ballet,
K-Klass,
Icehouse,
Fela Kuti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Adolescents,
Drive Like Jehu,
Amon Düül II,
Young Marble Giants,
The Gap Band,
Panda Bear,
DJ Style,
Deepchord,
Blossom Toes,
John Cale,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.