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 Qatar and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the 808 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 Barbara Tucker to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Stetsasonic,
Ronnie Foster,
Wire,
The Birthday Party,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Beau Brummels,
Underground Resistance,
F. McDonald,
AZ,
The Moody Blues,
Essential Logic,
Glambeats Corp.,
Shoche,
Minnie Riperton,
The Leaves,
Slick Rick,
Funky Four + One,
the Association,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nico,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Golliwogs,
Mad Mike,
Aloha Tigers,
Country Teasers,
John Lydon,
Icehouse,
Little Man,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jerry's Kids,
The Dead C,
B.T. Express,
Joensuu 1685,
Hot Snakes,
The Move,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Swans,
Matthew Halsall,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Alison Limerick,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Y Pants,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pole,
In Retrospect,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
X-101,
Q65,
Colin Newman,
Nas,
Crime,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Josef K,
Scrapy,
Zero Boys,
The Remains,
the Normal,
Janne Schatter,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.