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 Mozambique and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 The New Christs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
The Seeds,
Television,
The Searchers,
Lou Reed,
The New Christs,
The Remains,
Stetsasonic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Dave Clark Five,
Rufus Thomas,
a-ha,
B.T. Express,
Amon Düül,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anakelly,
The Names,
ABBA,
Mandrill,
Minnie Riperton,
Matthew Bourne,
Nirvana,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fuzztones,
Circle Jerks,
Talk Talk,
The Residents,
Chris Corsano,
Section 25,
Index,
Graham Central Station,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
The Neon Judgement,
The Kinks,
Yusef Lateef,
Bobby Womack,
The Busters,
The Monochrome Set,
Althea and Donna,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Görl,
Scientists,
Monolake,
The Knickerbockers,
New Age Steppers,
Desert Stars,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soulsonic Force,
Magazine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Scratch Acid,
Archie Shepp,
Camouflage,
the Bar-Kays,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.