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 Colombia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The American Breed to the punk 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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Mark Hollis,
Mad Mike,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pussy Galore,
Clear Light,
Lower 48,
Boz Scaggs,
The Music Machine,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Germs,
Todd Terry,
Sun Ra,
Sixth Finger,
The Tremeloes,
DJ Style,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Womack,
The Moody Blues,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Offenders,
The Misunderstood,
Half Japanese,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Josef K,
Connie Case,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Desert Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Jacques Brel,
Drexciya,
Chrome,
Intrusion,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rites of Spring,
Con Funk Shun,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Leonard Cohen,
Scott Walker,
Judy Mowatt,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
The Names,
Ultimate Spinach,
One Last Wish,
Tubeway Army,
Joy Division,
The Human League,
Franke,
Moss Icon,
Pole,
Von Mondo,
Eric Copeland,
Camberwell Now,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eve St. Jones,
Rod Modell,
Absolute Body Control,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.