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 Peru and from Accra.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Prince Buster to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
The Raincoats,
Lakeside,
Avey Tare,
Dennis Brown,
Derrick Morgan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Slave,
Crooked Eye,
Goldenarms,
Surgeon,
Piero Umiliani,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobby Womack,
Y Pants,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Soft Cell,
Funkadelic,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Byrd,
Altered Images,
Malaria!,
Nick Fraelich,
Matthew Halsall,
Grey Daturas,
New Order,
The Count Five,
Bad Manners,
Icehouse,
Von Mondo,
Susan Cadogan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Animal Collective,
June Days,
Joe Finger,
Morten Harket,
Infiniti,
The Last Poets,
Make Up,
Thompson Twins,
The Gories,
CMW,
Bill Wells,
Bronski Beat,
Albert Ayler,
Juan Atkins,
The Gun Club,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
These Immortal Souls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Young Marble Giants,
Scion,
Q and Not U,
Black Flag,
The Dead C,
Warsaw,
Simply Red,
A Certain Ratio,
Joensuu 1685,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.