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 Benin and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Holger Czukay 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 Music Machine to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Sex Pistols,
Flipper,
Hot Snakes,
Glenn Branca,
Mark Hollis,
Cheater Slicks,
In Retrospect,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Arcadia,
The Black Dice,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pet Shop Boys,
Qualms,
L. Decosne,
Amon Düül II,
David McCallum,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Move,
The Leaves,
Godley & Creme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Skatalites,
Eve St. Jones,
Johnny Clarke,
Minutemen,
Brick,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scott Walker,
Sällskapet,
E-Dancer,
The Moody Blues,
The Real Kids,
Iggy Pop,
Henry Cow,
The Trojans,
Reagan Youth,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rapeman,
Bush Tetras,
Interpol,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hasil Adkins,
Barry Ungar,
Mandrill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Negative Approach,
Deakin,
Lou Reed,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Normal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
OOIOO,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Depeche Mode,
Japan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Silicon Teens,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.