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 Cyprus and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 A Certain Ratio to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marc Almond,
Gang of Four,
Crispian St. Peters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Birthday Party,
Marcia Griffiths,
Alton Ellis,
Ultravox,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Aural Exciters,
Iggy Pop,
Roxette,
Hardrive,
Ituana,
Icehouse,
The Happenings,
Eve St. Jones,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bauhaus,
Byron Stingily,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Excepter,
Davy DMX,
Matthew Halsall,
Bill Wells,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Tremeloes,
Funky Four + One,
Minny Pops,
Max Romeo,
Roger Hodgson,
Groovy Waters,
Minutemen,
Franke,
Rites of Spring,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Graham Central Station,
The Skatalites,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Motions,
Rekid,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Victims,
Au Pairs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Soft Cell,
Susan Cadogan,
Marine Girls,
Fluxion,
The Real Kids,
the Swans,
Make Up,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.