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 St Lucia and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Television Personalities to the punk 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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Offenders,
Procol Harum,
B.T. Express,
Boz Scaggs,
The Monks,
LL Cool J,
Maleditus Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Pus,
Fugazi,
Bobby Womack,
Kerrie Biddell,
David Axelrod,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Count Five,
Dawn Penn,
the Fania All-Stars,
Thompson Twins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
World's Most,
Pole,
Sight & Sound,
Kayak,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Normal,
Make Up,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
T.S.O.L.,
Bobby Byrd,
The Tremeloes,
Josef K,
Blake Baxter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Porter Ricks,
Main Source,
Silicon Teens,
Joy Division,
Visage,
The Barracudas,
Funkadelic,
Icehouse,
Fluxion,
Pylon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bronski Beat,
the Sonics,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sister Nancy,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Christie,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lalann,
The Skatalites,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.