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 Hungary and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 L. Decosne to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bootsy Collins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Surgeon,
James White and The Blacks,
Joey Negro,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Livin' Joy,
Soft Machine,
Quadrant,
Jeff Lynne,
The Tremeloes,
The Remains,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yellowson,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rosa Yemen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Darondo,
This Heat,
Deakin,
Malaria!,
Buzzcocks,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
The Raincoats,
the Bar-Kays,
Lungfish,
Funky Four + One,
Bobby Sherman,
Absolute Body Control,
Loose Ends,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dave Gahan,
Brass Construction,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jeff Mills,
Cheater Slicks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dead Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Reuben Wilson,
The Dead C,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Charles Mingus,
Make Up,
Marine Girls,
Archie Shepp,
Echospace,
the Sonics,
Althea and Donna,
Essential Logic,
Lalann,
Suicide,
Monolake,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.