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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Quantec to the jazz 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Unwound,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Siglo XX,
Talk Talk,
Janne Schatter,
The Martian,
Steve Hackett,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Saints,
Blossom Toes,
the Sonics,
a-ha,
David Axelrod,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eurythmics,
Don Cherry,
The Invisible,
Cameo,
Tears for Fears,
Kevin Saunderson,
Main Source,
The Gap Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Camberwell Now,
Bobby Byrd,
The Dead C,
Alton Ellis,
Interpol,
Basic Channel,
Von Mondo,
Godley & Creme,
Pantaleimon,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Golliwogs,
Rekid,
The Blues Magoos,
Severed Heads,
Johnny Clarke,
Pylon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tropical Tobacco,
DJ Sneak,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Reuben Wilson,
Susan Cadogan,
The Moleskins,
Sonic Youth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Black Dice,
Gong,
New Age Steppers,
Marmalade,
Brass Construction,
Brand Nubian,
Gabor Szabo,
Colin Newman,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
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.