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 Papua New Guinea and from Taipei.
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 Glasgow and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator 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 Yellowson to the techno 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar 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?
Chris Corsano,
Prince Buster,
Jacques Brel,
Fatback Band,
Franke,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crispy Ambulance,
Organ,
The Litter,
LL Cool J,
Amazonics,
Q and Not U,
T.S.O.L.,
Model 500,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Move,
Tres Demented,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tears for Fears,
This Heat,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Qualms,
David Axelrod,
ABBA,
The Cowsills,
Jeff Mills,
Blossom Toes,
The Gap Band,
Easy Going,
Deadbeat,
Ultravox,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David Bowie,
The Invisible,
Soul II Soul,
Jandek,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Standells,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Bananas,
Reagan Youth,
Lou Reed,
MC5,
Tomorrow,
Clear Light,
Carl Craig,
Saccharine Trust,
Interpol,
The Last Poets,
cv313,
The Slits,
the Slits,
Minutemen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lucky Dragons,
Rufus Thomas,
a-ha,
Hoover,
Matthew Halsall,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.