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 Seychelles and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Brand Nubian to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Slick Rick,
Whodini,
the Germs,
Saccharine Trust,
Kenny Larkin,
Yusef Lateef,
L. Decosne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Yellowson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Neon Judgement,
The American Breed,
Zero Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
Vladislav Delay,
Bronski Beat,
The Toasters,
The Golliwogs,
Los Fastidios,
Skaos,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Iggy Pop,
Mark Hollis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nirvana,
Accadde A,
Young Marble Giants,
Ten City,
Tears for Fears,
Stiv Bators,
Aswad,
Eurythmics,
Lucky Dragons,
Flipper,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Selecter,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Organ,
Suburban Knight,
Pantytec,
Thee Headcoats,
ABBA,
Little Man,
Youth Brigade,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minor Threat,
U.S. Maple,
Bluetip,
Ultimate Spinach,
Heaven 17,
Piero Umiliani,
The Offenders,
Wolf Eyes,
World's Most,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pylon,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.