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 Papua New Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marcia Griffiths to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
The Slackers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fear,
Byron Stingily,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ken Boothe,
Gastr Del Sol,
Das Ding,
Malaria!,
Cybotron,
Arthur Verocai,
The Residents,
Jacob Miller,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Make Up,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Sherman,
Khruangbin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultravox,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Simply Red,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Soft Cell,
Popol Vuh,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Infiniti,
Minnie Riperton,
Lungfish,
Tubeway Army,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tom Boy,
Roxy Music,
OOIOO,
The J.B.'s,
Dorothy Ashby,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Graham Central Station,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Peter & Gordon,
The Evens,
Sixth Finger,
Sam Rivers,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fortunes,
the Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
Con Funk Shun,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yaz,
Jesper Dahlback,
June Days,
Al Stewart,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Offenders,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.