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 Bulgaria and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba 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 Eurythmics to the punk 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Five Americans,
These Immortal Souls,
Wings,
Derrick May,
The Fire Engines,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Newcleus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eve St. Jones,
The Real Kids,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bluetip,
Radiopuhelimet,
Banda Bassotti,
Heaven 17,
The Velvet Underground,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Monolake,
Crooked Eye,
The Dave Clark Five,
Saccharine Trust,
The Gladiators,
Delon & Dalcan,
Make Up,
Monks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mr. Review,
Charles Mingus,
Minor Threat,
Suburban Knight,
DJ Style,
Reuben Wilson,
Young Marble Giants,
Althea and Donna,
Soul II Soul,
Rosa Yemen,
Severed Heads,
Connie Case,
Howard Jones,
Anakelly,
Absolute Body Control,
Kayak,
Robert Hood,
The Walker Brothers,
Quadrant,
John Holt,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiohead,
the Fania All-Stars,
In Retrospect,
Joensuu 1685,
Minutemen,
OOIOO,
Hasil Adkins,
Liliput,
LL Cool J,
Babytalk,
Duran Duran,
Jacob Miller,
Brass Construction,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.