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 Monaco and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sandy B to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Kurtis Blow,
The Victims,
the Soft Cell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Donald Byrd,
Q65,
Masters at Work,
Harry Pussy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Barbara Tucker,
The Litter,
Yazoo,
Fugazi,
Charles Mingus,
Iggy Pop,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rufus Thomas,
Roger Hodgson,
Bob Dylan,
The Vogues,
The Misunderstood,
Dark Day,
Jeff Lynne,
the Germs,
Stockholm Monsters,
a-ha,
Skaos,
Bizarre Inc.,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Negative Approach,
the Sonics,
Steve Hackett,
Siglo XX,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Fania All-Stars,
FM Einheit,
The Durutti Column,
Lower 48,
Joensuu 1685,
Terry Callier,
Kenny Larkin,
Harmonia,
Junior Murvin,
Los Fastidios,
Subhumans,
Japan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Minny Pops,
Bill Wells,
The Tremeloes,
Barclay James Harvest,
China Crisis,
Johnny Clarke,
DJ Style,
Quadrant,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.