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 Egypt and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the crunk 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Motorama,
The Martian,
Nils Olav,
Cheater Slicks,
Tomorrow,
Spandau Ballet,
Scan 7,
Kerrie Biddell,
Wasted Youth,
Joyce Sims,
Cameo,
Quando Quango,
LL Cool J,
Shoche,
Angry Samoans,
PIL,
Kenny Larkin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Normal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Porter Ricks,
Rod Modell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pere Ubu,
June Days,
D'Angelo,
the Bar-Kays,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Aloha Tigers,
Lucky Dragons,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Symarip,
Throbbing Gristle,
Yazoo,
The Fall,
Cecil Taylor,
Crooked Eye,
Dawn Penn,
Section 25,
David Bowie,
Dead Boys,
Little Man,
The Dead C,
Stockholm Monsters,
Thee Headcoats,
The Moody Blues,
Jeff Mills,
Von Mondo,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash,
La Düsseldorf,
The Slits,
Dual Sessions,
Neil Young,
Index,
Bobby Womack,
Bronski Beat,
Panda Bear,
the Human League,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.