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 Armenia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Aswad to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Leaves,
New York Dolls,
Thee Headcoats,
The Mojo Men,
Byron Stingily,
Panda Bear,
the Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
Frankie Knuckles,
Peter and Kerry,
New Age Steppers,
AZ,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Modern Lovers,
These Immortal Souls,
Visage,
Bluetip,
Porter Ricks,
Skaos,
The Names,
Connie Case,
The Seeds,
The Birthday Party,
Average White Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Buzzcocks,
Duran Duran,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sam Rivers,
OOIOO,
Jeru the Damaja,
Camberwell Now,
Lindisfarne,
The Moody Blues,
Heaven 17,
Cybotron,
Jacques Brel,
Terry Callier,
Wire,
Jacob Miller,
Arab on Radar,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Moon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hot Snakes,
T. Rex,
Neil Young,
Laurel Aitken,
Metal Thangz,
Maleditus Sound,
The Smiths,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eddi Front,
Maurizio,
The Fall,
Man Parrish,
X-102,
Rekid,
Eurythmics,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.