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 Greece and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Q65 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Das Ding,
U.S. Maple,
The Count Five,
Bronski Beat,
Lucky Dragons,
Jawbox,
Sugar Minott,
Juan Atkins,
Malaria!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Smoke,
Matthew Halsall,
Josef K,
Rosa Yemen,
The Gladiators,
The Tremeloes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Black Sheep,
Jeff Lynne,
The Raincoats,
The Real Kids,
Section 25,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Starr,
Grandmaster Flash,
Can,
Althea and Donna,
Cabaret Voltaire,
ABC,
Crash Course in Science,
Metal Thangz,
Procol Harum,
the Human League,
Throbbing Gristle,
Harry Pussy,
Magma,
Minny Pops,
Roxette,
The American Breed,
Oblivians,
Jacques Brel,
Pulsallama,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Sherman,
Barbara Tucker,
Yaz,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Fortunes,
Bad Manners,
The Pretty Things,
Deadbeat,
Electric Light Orchestra,
JFA,
the Soft Cell,
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
Mr. Review,
Rakim,
Rufus Thomas,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.