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 Mongolia and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Michael McDonald 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 Martian to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Tom Boy,
The Human League,
The Cure,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cybotron,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Terry,
Thee Headcoats,
Barry Ungar,
Man Eating Sloth,
Susan Cadogan,
Schoolly D,
Matthew Halsall,
Erykah Badu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Sheep,
Crispy Ambulance,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dead C,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Pus,
the Human League,
Moss Icon,
the Association,
kango's stein massive,
Q65,
The Residents,
The Pop Group,
D'Angelo,
Peter & Gordon,
Nirvana,
The Cowsills,
Mission of Burma,
The Electric Prunes,
Bush Tetras,
Mandrill,
The Music Machine,
Spandau Ballet,
Bad Manners,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eddi Front,
Grey Daturas,
Groovy Waters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Vladislav Delay,
Sister Nancy,
Con Funk Shun,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
Sarah Menescal,
Main Source,
Scratch Acid,
One Last Wish,
Joe Finger,
Skriet,
Roger Hodgson,
Ponytail,
Bauhaus,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.