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 Belize 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
T. Rex,
Kerrie Biddell,
Excepter,
Bill Near,
Dawn Penn,
FM Einheit,
Easy Going,
Lindisfarne,
Pere Ubu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Underground Resistance,
Arab on Radar,
AZ,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Swans,
Cameo,
Desert Stars,
Fat Boys,
Warsaw,
Stiv Bators,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stereo Dub,
Donald Byrd,
Echospace,
Soft Machine,
Carl Craig,
The Move,
Lou Christie,
kango's stein massive,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tom Boy,
A Certain Ratio,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marshall Jefferson,
Donny Hathaway,
48th St. Collective,
Pulsallama,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Angry Samoans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David Bowie,
Gichy Dan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Association,
Massinfluence,
The Names,
Faraquet,
The Mojo Men,
X-102,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Susan Cadogan,
Soul II Soul,
World's Most,
X-101,
Barry Ungar,
Sällskapet,
Brand Nubian,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Bizarre Inc.,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.