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 Kyrgyzstan and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Soft Cell to the disco 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Audionom,
Dave Gahan,
Cluster,
The Residents,
Desert Stars,
The Fuzztones,
DNA,
Mars,
Crispy Ambulance,
PIL,
John Holt,
Y Pants,
Ronnie Foster,
Icehouse,
The Names,
The Skatalites,
Laurel Aitken,
Derrick Morgan,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cure,
Jacob Miller,
Eli Mardock,
Rod Modell,
Can,
Drexciya,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Pretty Things,
Radio Birdman,
Dead Boys,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Interpol,
Althea and Donna,
Harry Pussy,
Intrusion,
Crash Course in Science,
The Happenings,
The Busters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Albert Ayler,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Babytalk,
The Real Kids,
Lee Hazlewood,
Suicide,
Half Japanese,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marc Almond,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soul II Soul,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Slackers,
Blossom Toes,
JFA,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.