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 Oman and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 John Foxx to the punk 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Rosa Yemen,
Moby Grape,
Subhumans,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hardrive,
the Normal,
Pulsallama,
Mo-Dettes,
Erykah Badu,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
T. Rex,
B.T. Express,
Wally Richardson,
The Cure,
The Tremeloes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Q and Not U,
T.S.O.L.,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Matthew Halsall,
Beasts of Bourbon,
La Düsseldorf,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Near,
Isaac Hayes,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Doors,
The Red Krayola,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
D'Angelo,
Marc Almond,
Depeche Mode,
Urselle,
DJ Sneak,
The Grass Roots,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cluster,
Bootsy Collins,
Stiv Bators,
Tommy Roe,
Ponytail,
Ornette Coleman,
Warsaw,
Accadde A,
Juan Atkins,
The Birthday Party,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joensuu 1685,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Man Parrish,
Public Enemy,
Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun City Girls,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.