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 Palau and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Donald Fagen 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Motions,
Drive Like Jehu,
UT,
Judy Mowatt,
Todd Terry,
L. Decosne,
Spoonie Gee,
the Swans,
Michelle Simonal,
Albert Ayler,
The Fuzztones,
Pylon,
Ronan,
Fear,
Rites of Spring,
Symarip,
Yellowson,
Funkadelic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Peter and Kerry,
Erykah Badu,
The Fall,
Charles Mingus,
AZ,
Dead Boys,
Organ,
Kurtis Blow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Talk Talk,
June of 44,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Terrestrial Tones,
H. Thieme,
Prince Buster,
Black Bananas,
KRS-One,
The Cure,
Moby Grape,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mars,
The Beau Brummels,
Andrew Hill,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Iggy Pop,
Bobby Womack,
Sugar Minott,
Bang On A Can,
Scott Walker,
The Pretty Things,
Darondo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Henry Cow,
Alison Limerick,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Los Fastidios,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.