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 Bangladesh and from Beijing.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Alarm Clocks,
Livin' Joy,
The Angels of Light,
Wally Richardson,
X-102,
Quando Quango,
The Fire Engines,
Echospace,
Sixth Finger,
These Immortal Souls,
Fatback Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Minutemen,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moody Blues,
Deakin,
Radio Birdman,
Shoche,
Guru Guru,
Radiopuhelimet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fela Kuti,
Porter Ricks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Swans,
Rosa Yemen,
Mad Mike,
The Fugs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kayak,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Velvet Underground,
Aural Exciters,
The Moleskins,
Fat Boys,
Icehouse,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
New York Dolls,
Spandau Ballet,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Whodini,
Youth Brigade,
Toni Rubio,
Oneida,
Nick Fraelich,
Lightning Bolt,
John Foxx,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Real Kids,
Deepchord,
Magma,
Audionom,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Clear Light,
Donald Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
Duran Duran,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.