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 Chile and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 China Crisis to the grunge 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Todd Terry,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
Ken Boothe,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Selecter,
Sight & Sound,
Y Pants,
Groovy Waters,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marmalade,
Faraquet,
Eurythmics,
Slick Rick,
Basic Channel,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Moleskins,
Colin Newman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Roger Hodgson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tubeway Army,
Gang Green,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cal Tjader,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lungfish,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deepchord,
Carl Craig,
Black Bananas,
Altered Images,
Goldenarms,
Monolake,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Star Department,
Desert Stars,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker,
Bang On A Can,
Hot Snakes,
Brick,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Deadbeat,
Public Enemy,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ituana,
Skaos,
A Certain Ratio,
Sister Nancy,
Half Japanese,
Stereo Dub,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fortunes,
John Cale,
Television Personalities,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.