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 Azerbaijan and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 clarinet 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 Crispy Ambulance to the grunge 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Slave,
Hasil Adkins,
Brick,
The Martian,
Theoretical Girls,
The Fire Engines,
Desert Stars,
Aural Exciters,
DJ Style,
Carl Craig,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Fatback Band,
Ludus,
The Evens,
Suicide,
Mantronix,
Make Up,
The Monochrome Set,
The Fugs,
a-ha,
Lakeside,
Camouflage,
Flash Fearless,
Patti Smith,
The Smoke,
Oblivians,
Drexciya,
Monks,
The Young Rascals,
10cc,
Con Funk Shun,
the Soft Cell,
Sister Nancy,
Eve St. Jones,
Deakin,
Aaron Thompson,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ken Boothe,
The Slackers,
Banda Bassotti,
Angry Samoans,
La Düsseldorf,
Archie Shepp,
Gregory Isaacs,
The New Christs,
Bootsy Collins,
the Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Swans,
The J.B.'s,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Warsaw,
Minny Pops,
The Dirtbombs,
Wire,
T.S.O.L.,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Five Americans,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.