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 Zimbabwe and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 snare 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 Mary Jane Girls to the grime 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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tears for Fears,
Bush Tetras,
The Pretty Things,
Popol Vuh,
Lindisfarne,
Connie Case,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brick,
Pagans,
Sam Rivers,
Ponytail,
KRS-One,
Leonard Cohen,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rod Modell,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tres Demented,
Steve Hackett,
Banda Bassotti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Stiv Bators,
Oneida,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minnie Riperton,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Surgeon,
OOIOO,
Lalo Schifrin,
Morten Harket,
Jesper Dahlback,
Freddie Wadling,
Arcadia,
Oblivians,
Dawn Penn,
T. Rex,
the Association,
Grey Daturas,
Talk Talk,
Yusef Lateef,
The Offenders,
Fat Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Alison Limerick,
Duran Duran,
the Bar-Kays,
Maurizio,
Gichy Dan,
Moby Grape,
Eddi Front,
Tomorrow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Wake,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bauhaus,
Sex Pistols,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Quadrant,
China Crisis,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.