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 Bahrain and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Dead C to the dance 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Gerry Rafferty,
Heaven 17,
Johnny Clarke,
Roy Ayers,
The Victims,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harry Pussy,
The Wake,
Whodini,
The Invisible,
Radiohead,
Eric Copeland,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kurtis Blow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Derrick May,
PIL,
The Neon Judgement,
Bush Tetras,
Crispian St. Peters,
Make Up,
Funkadelic,
Kenny Larkin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Skaos,
The Durutti Column,
Peter and Kerry,
The Red Krayola,
Echospace,
The Blues Magoos,
Ornette Coleman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tomorrow,
Robert Görl,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Nils Olav,
Aaron Thompson,
Connie Case,
Soulsonic Force,
World's Most,
Juan Atkins,
Swans,
D'Angelo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fat Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hasil Adkins,
Michelle Simonal,
The Pretty Things,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bauhaus,
The Buckinghams,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Davy DMX,
Dave Gahan,
Judy Mowatt,
Chris & Cosey,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fugs,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.