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 Swaziland and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer 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 Cymande to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Harmonia,
Dark Day,
The United States of America,
EPMD,
Parry Music,
The Beau Brummels,
Lower 48,
Junior Murvin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Saccharine Trust,
Minny Pops,
Babytalk,
E-Dancer,
Funkadelic,
Au Pairs,
ABBA,
Sun Ra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ponytail,
Graham Central Station,
Blancmange,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sixth Finger,
B.T. Express,
Alphaville,
The Music Machine,
Rakim,
Con Funk Shun,
Roxette,
Cluster,
Robert Wyatt,
Agitation Free,
The Dead C,
Steve Hackett,
The Tremeloes,
Sarah Menescal,
Barclay James Harvest,
Anakelly,
The Move,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Accadde A,
The Human League,
Soft Cell,
Ten City,
Rod Modell,
Girls At Our Best!,
Magma,
The Fire Engines,
Buzzcocks,
Bob Dylan,
K-Klass,
Dave Gahan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
This Heat,
H. Thieme,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sam Rivers,
Lyres,
Brick,
Stiv Bators,
Das Ding,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.