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 Seoul.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin 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 Reuben Wilson to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses 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 rap 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
EPMD,
Morten Harket,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lower 48,
Kurtis Blow,
Underground Resistance,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
In Retrospect,
Smog,
Outsiders,
Anthony Braxton,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agent Orange,
Echospace,
Scientists,
Bob Dylan,
Faust,
Public Enemy,
Youth Brigade,
Slave,
a-ha,
The Doors,
Sugar Minott,
Metal Thangz,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Susan Cadogan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Five Americans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Aural Exciters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hoover,
Mad Mike,
Section 25,
Lyres,
Stetsasonic,
Talk Talk,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ice-T,
Television,
Tears for Fears,
Man Parrish,
Camberwell Now,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dave Gahan,
Harmonia,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Flag,
Donald Byrd,
Crash Course in Science,
Intrusion,
Malaria!,
Sun City Girls,
The Index,
Gabor Szabo,
Ossler,
Jacques Brel,
Joensuu 1685,
Carl Craig,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.