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 the UAE and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Liaisons Dangereuses 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
CMW,
Yaz,
Henry Cow,
Public Enemy,
The Gladiators,
Cameo,
Funkadelic,
Pulsallama,
Q and Not U,
Severed Heads,
Y Pants,
The Evens,
Au Pairs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Wasted Youth,
The Buckinghams,
The Real Kids,
Skarface,
Grauzone,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lou Reed,
The Fall,
Gang of Four,
The Pop Group,
Robert Hood,
Arcadia,
Bobby Womack,
Yusef Lateef,
Guru Guru,
Deakin,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Black Dice,
the Human League,
John Holt,
Aaron Thompson,
Jawbox,
Hasil Adkins,
Danielle Patucci,
Agent Orange,
Scion,
The Kinks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Prince Buster,
Rekid,
The Angels of Light,
Nils Olav,
Slick Rick,
The Dave Clark Five,
Suicide,
Absolute Body Control,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Howard Jones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joy Division,
The Raincoats,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.