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 Guinea-Bissau and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Letta Mbulu to the techno 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Half Japanese,
The Fire Engines,
Mandrill,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Toasters,
Tears for Fears,
KRS-One,
The Searchers,
Banda Bassotti,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Coltrane,
Ponytail,
The Knickerbockers,
The Buckinghams,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bobby Womack,
Swans,
Maurizio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mark Hollis,
The Mummies,
Reagan Youth,
L. Decosne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Lydon,
Scion,
The Skatalites,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Real Kids,
Negative Approach,
Erykah Badu,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Colin Newman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gap Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grey Daturas,
Trumans Water,
Rekid,
The Tremeloes,
The Divine Comedy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Oblivians,
X-Ray Spex,
Kayak,
Aloha Tigers,
The Detroit Cobras,
ABC,
Kaleidoscope,
Schoolly D,
Gang Starr,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jacob Miller,
DNA,
Al Stewart,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.