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 Hungary and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Masters at Work to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
The Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pere Ubu,
Public Image Ltd.,
ABC,
Boogie Down Productions,
Johnny Clarke,
Hashim,
The Tremeloes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ludus,
These Immortal Souls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Derrick May,
Slave,
LL Cool J,
Al Stewart,
Au Pairs,
Kaleidoscope,
Underground Resistance,
The Monks,
World's Most,
Newcleus,
Whodini,
Erasure,
Crime,
The Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Techniques,
Josef K,
Buzzcocks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Byron Stingily,
Cluster,
Bluetip,
DJ Sneak,
The Knickerbockers,
Lightning Bolt,
Roxette,
New York Dolls,
Sam Rivers,
Donny Hathaway,
Swans,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thee Headcoats,
The Motions,
Barrington Levy,
Barry Ungar,
Bush Tetras,
The Remains,
Bobby Womack,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Saccharine Trust,
Joyce Sims,
Depeche Mode,
Mad Mike,
New Order,
Mantronix,
Max Romeo,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.