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 Maldives and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes 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 Donny Hathaway to the rap 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ 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 güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Essential Logic,
The Raincoats,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
T. Rex,
Pantaleimon,
The Smiths,
Jeff Lynne,
Gichy Dan,
Dual Sessions,
Depeche Mode,
The Move,
Godley & Creme,
Max Romeo,
Jerry's Kids,
Harry Pussy,
Tubeway Army,
Brand Nubian,
the Association,
The Index,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sister Nancy,
the Soft Cell,
Suburban Knight,
Popol Vuh,
Chris & Cosey,
Mission of Burma,
Massinfluence,
The Wake,
The Young Rascals,
DJ Style,
Babytalk,
The Searchers,
The J.B.'s,
Ultra Naté,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masters at Work,
Icehouse,
The Techniques,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Shuggie Otis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sonics,
Ohio Players,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gregory Isaacs,
Anthony Braxton,
Royal Trux,
X-102,
The Gories,
Ultravox,
Deadbeat,
Graham Central Station,
Faraquet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rod Modell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Moby Grape,
Zapp,
Ornette Coleman,
Susan Cadogan,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.