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 Argentina and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Surgeon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Gang Green,
John Cale,
Stetsasonic,
Todd Rundgren,
Sun Ra,
Mark Hollis,
Neu!,
The Misunderstood,
The Fortunes,
Jacob Miller,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soul II Soul,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Public Enemy,
Desert Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang Starr,
Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cameo,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Offenders,
Scan 7,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scientists,
EPMD,
The Fall,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Terry Callier,
Technova,
Rapeman,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jerry's Kids,
Goldenarms,
John Foxx,
Dave Gahan,
Erykah Badu,
The Knickerbockers,
Mr. Review,
Unwound,
Siglo XX,
Eric Copeland,
Ronnie Foster,
Spandau Ballet,
Yazoo,
the Slits,
Bad Manners,
Negative Approach,
The Black Dice,
The Cramps,
The Grass Roots,
the Germs,
Shuggie Otis,
Bob Dylan,
The Invisible,
Second Layer,
the Normal,
The Monochrome Set,
Quantec,
The Wake,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.