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 Guyana and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Roger Hodgson to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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,
Ludus,
Gang Starr,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bauhaus,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gang Gang Dance,
Magazine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crooked Eye,
Eurythmics,
Moby Grape,
The Slackers,
ABC,
H. Thieme,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brothers Johnson,
the Bar-Kays,
Unwound,
Maurizio,
Pulsallama,
Inner City,
Lou Christie,
Davy DMX,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aswad,
Anthony Braxton,
Television,
Frankie Knuckles,
Letta Mbulu,
DJ Sneak,
The Tremeloes,
Clear Light,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Blancmange,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scott Walker,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Schoolly D,
Section 25,
D'Angelo,
the Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bob Dylan,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang Green,
The Monks,
Bluetip,
Duran Duran,
X-101,
Graham Central Station,
Nils Olav,
Johnny Osbourne,
Excepter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wasted Youth,
Shuggie Otis,
Q65,
Jacques Brel,
The Mummies,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.