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 Kenya and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Donald Fagen 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 Michelle Simonal to the electroclash 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
Cybotron,
Simply Red,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Misunderstood,
Khruangbin,
Vainqueur,
Jawbox,
Masters at Work,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wasted Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultimate Spinach,
Visage,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
Stiv Bators,
ABC,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Thompson Twins,
The Fire Engines,
Joe Smooth,
FM Einheit,
Inner City,
Bob Dylan,
The Monochrome Set,
The Trojans,
K-Klass,
Gregory Isaacs,
June of 44,
Quantec,
Susan Cadogan,
Ituana,
Albert Ayler,
Bill Near,
ABBA,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Happenings,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gang Starr,
Aaron Thompson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
X-Ray Spex,
Rites of Spring,
Monks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lower 48,
Hoover,
Fat Boys,
Morten Harket,
The Divine Comedy,
Scion,
Arthur Verocai,
Audionom,
The Velvet Underground,
Can,
The Offenders,
Motorama,
Amon Düül II,
Jandek,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.