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 Qatar and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 spring reverb 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 Oneida to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
A Certain Ratio,
Sonic Youth,
The Moody Blues,
Stereo Dub,
Bobby Byrd,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fuzztones,
Slick Rick,
Janne Schatter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Dirtbombs,
Con Funk Shun,
JFA,
Outsiders,
Letta Mbulu,
Boredoms,
B.T. Express,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kerrie Biddell,
Darondo,
John Coltrane,
John Lydon,
Charles Mingus,
Livin' Joy,
Skarface,
Roger Hodgson,
Sun Ra,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sarah Menescal,
Y Pants,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tears for Fears,
Lebanon Hanover,
Hot Snakes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Babytalk,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pagans,
The Slackers,
Youth Brigade,
Absolute Body Control,
Stetsasonic,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Derrick May,
The Birthday Party,
Bill Wells,
Q65,
Alton Ellis,
Fad Gadget,
Mark Hollis,
Slave,
The Happenings,
Black Pus,
Clear Light,
Neil Young,
R.M.O.,
Brass Construction,
The Searchers,
Idris Muhammad,
World's Most,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.