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 Sri Lanka and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar 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 Little Man to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalo Schifrin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Malaria!,
Freddie Wadling,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
48th St. Collective,
Loose Ends,
The Litter,
Roger Hodgson,
Ornette Coleman,
Magazine,
Susan Cadogan,
Alphaville,
Excepter,
The Standells,
John Lydon,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerrie Biddell,
Index,
Procol Harum,
Todd Terry,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fluxion,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gladiators,
Sun City Girls,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxy Music,
The Toasters,
Quadrant,
the Slits,
Maleditus Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Aswad,
Public Enemy,
Gichy Dan,
Lou Reed,
Carl Craig,
Matthew Halsall,
Warsaw,
The Fuzztones,
The Golliwogs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Blues Magoos,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Happenings,
Khruangbin,
Young Marble Giants,
ABC,
Ultravox,
the Association,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Soft Cell,
Dawn Penn,
Buzzcocks,
MC5,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.