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 Guyana and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the techno 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Radio Birdman,
Buzzcocks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Half Japanese,
Alphaville,
The Fugs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mr. Review,
Arthur Verocai,
Thee Headcoats,
Eddi Front,
Hoover,
Circle Jerks,
Deadbeat,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gichy Dan,
Piero Umiliani,
These Immortal Souls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Zeros,
Bobby Womack,
Sällskapet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Zapp,
Don Cherry,
Alice Coltrane,
Nirvana,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bluetip,
Althea and Donna,
The Vogues,
Bootsy Collins,
Jerry's Kids,
Danielle Patucci,
Banda Bassotti,
Janne Schatter,
Archie Shepp,
Erasure,
Rapeman,
The Velvet Underground,
Brass Construction,
China Crisis,
The Selecter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lightning Bolt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Altered Images,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ultimate Spinach,
Simply Red,
Warsaw,
Tim Buckley,
Lakeside,
Bang On A Can,
Todd Rundgren,
Joy Division,
UT,
Marshall Jefferson,
Colin Newman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.