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 Mexico City.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Boz Scaggs to the grime 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All cv313 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Roxette,
Kayak,
The Fire Engines,
Brass Construction,
R.M.O.,
Rotary Connection,
Zapp,
Maurizio,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
June of 44,
X-Ray Spex,
Talk Talk,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Freddie Wadling,
The Cramps,
Unwound,
Fat Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Iggy Pop,
The Divine Comedy,
Intrusion,
Ituana,
The Vogues,
Deadbeat,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Music Machine,
Boredoms,
The Monks,
Pantytec,
Ultravox,
Q and Not U,
Janne Schatter,
a-ha,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Blancmange,
Second Layer,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Five Americans,
The Evens,
Depeche Mode,
Babytalk,
Skaos,
Section 25,
The Black Dice,
Ten City,
Livin' Joy,
The Moody Blues,
Kas Product,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Mills,
Crispy Ambulance,
Malaria!,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yaz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Germs,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.