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 San Marino and from New York.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Derrick May to the techno 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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Zero Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
ABC,
Mad Mike,
Ultra Naté,
The Dead C,
Marmalade,
Robert Hood,
Visage,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sällskapet,
The Searchers,
Michelle Simonal,
Althea and Donna,
Gichy Dan,
The Real Kids,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pylon,
Bootsy Collins,
Eden Ahbez,
The Kinks,
John Cale,
Susan Cadogan,
The Angels of Light,
Inner City,
Agent Orange,
The Golliwogs,
Mr. Review,
The Offenders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
CMW,
Los Fastidios,
Banda Bassotti,
Organ,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bluetip,
Duran Duran,
Donald Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
the Normal,
The Electric Prunes,
Shuggie Otis,
Amon Düül II,
The Residents,
John Lydon,
Graham Central Station,
the Soft Cell,
Quando Quango,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Smiths,
Yusef Lateef,
Aural Exciters,
The Techniques,
Jerry's Kids,
Jacob Miller,
Magma,
Nas,
Gang Green,
Ituana,
Talk Talk,
Lou Reed,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.