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 Sweden 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar 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 Monks to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Mandrill,
The Fall,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Deepchord,
Angry Samoans,
Technova,
Malaria!,
Blancmange,
Can,
Joyce Sims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skriet,
Jeff Mills,
Zero Boys,
The Gladiators,
Todd Rundgren,
Hashim,
Suburban Knight,
The Young Rascals,
The Trojans,
Sun Ra,
Ronan,
Model 500,
The Motions,
The Blues Magoos,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mad Mike,
Monolake,
Half Japanese,
This Heat,
Intrusion,
Brass Construction,
Little Man,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Real Kids,
The Wake,
Josef K,
Yazoo,
The Velvet Underground,
Arthur Verocai,
Andrew Hill,
Parry Music,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pussy Galore,
Moby Grape,
the Bar-Kays,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
10cc,
Hasil Adkins,
The Count Five,
Reagan Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Public Enemy,
Jawbox,
Harry Pussy,
Donny Hathaway,
Davy DMX,
Black Bananas,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.