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 Mali 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Symarip,
Sister Nancy,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Zeros,
The Velvet Underground,
Harry Pussy,
Yellowson,
New York Dolls,
Donny Hathaway,
The Five Americans,
Nico,
The Dead C,
Scientists,
Carl Craig,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Slits,
Radio Birdman,
Spandau Ballet,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
James White and The Blacks,
Roy Ayers,
Stiv Bators,
Marmalade,
Newcleus,
The Slackers,
E-Dancer,
Organ,
Animal Collective,
Cameo,
Lungfish,
The Star Department,
Babytalk,
Mandrill,
Shuggie Otis,
Oneida,
Kaleidoscope,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Frankie Knuckles,
China Crisis,
John Foxx,
World's Most,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Coltrane,
The Evens,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Subhumans,
Section 25,
B.T. Express,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
June Days,
Sonic Youth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Connie Case,
Sarah Menescal,
X-102,
The Birthday Party,
Erasure,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.