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 Indonesia and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Archie Shepp to the disco 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Techniques,
T. Rex,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Robert Hood,
Cal Tjader,
Angry Samoans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tim Buckley,
Darondo,
Mantronix,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Sonics,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The New Christs,
Television,
H. Thieme,
The Selecter,
Lyres,
New York Dolls,
Accadde A,
The Vogues,
Flipper,
Glambeats Corp.,
James White and The Blacks,
Dead Boys,
10cc,
Talk Talk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deakin,
Matthew Halsall,
Steve Hackett,
Spoonie Gee,
Guru Guru,
Sound Behaviour,
Funkadelic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Subhumans,
June of 44,
John Foxx,
The J.B.'s,
Joe Finger,
The Monks,
Pantaleimon,
Blossom Toes,
Lucky Dragons,
Fatback Band,
Ken Boothe,
Rekid,
Yusef Lateef,
DJ Sneak,
K-Klass,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
EPMD,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Velvet Underground,
Toni Rubio,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.