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 Suriname and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 oboe 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 Faust to the funk 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Infiniti,
Dead Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
Donny Hathaway,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gabor Szabo,
Lungfish,
Ice-T,
Lower 48,
Tubeway Army,
Can,
The Move,
Soulsonic Force,
Moby Grape,
Kenny Larkin,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Davy DMX,
Jandek,
T. Rex,
Suicide,
Fear,
Minnie Riperton,
Sexual Harrassment,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Byrd,
The Knickerbockers,
The Golliwogs,
Deepchord,
Marine Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Radio Birdman,
The Sonics,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harmonia,
Black Flag,
Roger Hodgson,
Nils Olav,
Scan 7,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Invisible,
Alice Coltrane,
Kurtis Blow,
Japan,
Au Pairs,
Deadbeat,
Franke,
Kas Product,
Newcleus,
The Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Soul II Soul,
Marvin Gaye,
The Last Poets,
Charles Mingus,
Ultravox,
Clear Light,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.