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 Liechtenstein and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Bronski Beat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
The Victims,
Peter and Kerry,
Slave,
The Real Kids,
Terry Callier,
Trumans Water,
the Swans,
Youth Brigade,
Whodini,
The Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
The Mojo Men,
Sugar Minott,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Birthday Party,
The Beau Brummels,
Matthew Bourne,
The Doors,
Joy Division,
Das Ding,
Junior Murvin,
Man Parrish,
Alice Coltrane,
John Coltrane,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
DJ Style,
Pussy Galore,
Deepchord,
Sonic Youth,
Jeff Mills,
Curtis Mayfield,
The American Breed,
Hasil Adkins,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Big Daddy Kane,
Echospace,
Bootsy Collins,
Yazoo,
the Bar-Kays,
Metal Thangz,
Mission of Burma,
Lungfish,
Arthur Verocai,
Fugazi,
The Walker Brothers,
Icehouse,
Fear,
Lyres,
Marine Girls,
The Litter,
Black Bananas,
Al Stewart,
Jacques Brel,
Bronski Beat,
Tres Demented,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.