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 Vanuatu and from Glasgow.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Mummies 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Von Mondo,
Crash Course in Science,
The Human League,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Liliput,
Royal Trux,
The Selecter,
Livin' Joy,
Michelle Simonal,
T.S.O.L.,
Kool Moe Dee,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Althea and Donna,
Blossom Toes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
The Associates,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Letta Mbulu,
Alice Coltrane,
Dawn Penn,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Leaves,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Derrick May,
the Association,
FM Einheit,
Barbara Tucker,
Radiohead,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harmonia,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Monks,
DJ Style,
Ultravox,
Ralphi Rosario,
Country Teasers,
The Gories,
Public Image Ltd.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Blancmange,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Trojans,
The Buckinghams,
Dead Boys,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ronan,
Amon Düül II,
Mo-Dettes,
Henry Cow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lightning Bolt,
Mr. Review,
Buzzcocks,
X-Ray Spex,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.