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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum 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 Theoretical Girls to the disco 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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Mad Mike,
Tom Boy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Glenn Branca,
UT,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Motions,
Spandau Ballet,
Porter Ricks,
Laurel Aitken,
DJ Style,
Spoonie Gee,
The Moody Blues,
The Pop Group,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Idris Muhammad,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Chris & Cosey,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Arthur Verocai,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Modern Lovers,
JFA,
Prince Buster,
Roy Ayers,
Slave,
Bobby Womack,
The Cowsills,
Arab on Radar,
The Leaves,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Seeds,
Warsaw,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Leonard Cohen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Selecter,
Rufus Thomas,
the Human League,
Black Pus,
Metal Thangz,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Martian,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dave Clark Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultra Naté,
Andrew Hill,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Moleskins,
The Stooges,
Gang of Four,
Alphaville,
Dead Boys,
The Doors,
The Red Krayola,
Sällskapet,
Robert Hood,
Scion,
Flamin' Groovies,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.