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 Philippines and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 güiro 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 Deadbeat to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Sex Pistols,
The Offenders,
Jacob Miller,
Reuben Wilson,
Aloha Tigers,
Chrome,
Jawbox,
The Raincoats,
Kevin Saunderson,
Outsiders,
Sällskapet,
Pole,
Ronnie Foster,
Yusef Lateef,
Gregory Isaacs,
Desert Stars,
Leonard Cohen,
Joe Finger,
Pussy Galore,
Rufus Thomas,
the Association,
Aaron Thompson,
Yaz,
Crash Course in Science,
Quadrant,
The Gun Club,
Johnny Clarke,
Guru Guru,
Amazonics,
The Stooges,
Sun Ra,
Excepter,
Whodini,
Ossler,
ABC,
Scott Walker,
Heaven 17,
Marc Almond,
Reagan Youth,
Nik Kershaw,
The Litter,
The Birthday Party,
Morten Harket,
Matthew Bourne,
The Selecter,
the Germs,
Man Parrish,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABBA,
Neu!,
The Sonics,
Roy Ayers,
The Barracudas,
Lou Reed,
Smog,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Niagra,
Fugazi,
Country Teasers,
Brick,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.