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 Belarus and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Whodini to the rock 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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
10cc,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Angels of Light,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Newcleus,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kenny Larkin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rekid,
UT,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eli Mardock,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Magma,
Funkadelic,
B.T. Express,
Jacques Brel,
Nick Fraelich,
Lebanon Hanover,
Amon Düül II,
Schoolly D,
Joe Smooth,
Q and Not U,
The Flesh Eaters,
Loose Ends,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Flag,
Ken Boothe,
Judy Mowatt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Copeland,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
F. McDonald,
World's Most,
Talk Talk,
Camberwell Now,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Buzzcocks,
Magazine,
Mark Hollis,
Scion,
Excepter,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
ABC,
Spandau Ballet,
X-Ray Spex,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Last Poets,
Danielle Patucci,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nik Kershaw,
Electric Prunes,
Marc Almond,
Hoover,
Frankie Knuckles,
Boredoms,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.