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 Tajikistan and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Yellowson to the grunge 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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Tom Boy,
Hoover,
Henry Cow,
Aural Exciters,
Procol Harum,
The Gladiators,
Franke,
Danielle Patucci,
Subhumans,
Quantec,
Carl Craig,
Scion,
Los Fastidios,
Desert Stars,
The Grass Roots,
Faust,
Mo-Dettes,
The Monks,
Quadrant,
Arab on Radar,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Curtis Mayfield,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pulsallama,
Terrestrial Tones,
Parry Music,
Byron Stingily,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
Sixth Finger,
Tears for Fears,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dead Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bronski Beat,
Drexciya,
Make Up,
Groovy Waters,
a-ha,
Ken Boothe,
The Index,
The Dave Clark Five,
Charles Mingus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Q and Not U,
Cluster,
Wally Richardson,
David McCallum,
the Human League,
The Buckinghams,
Crispy Ambulance,
Josef K,
Black Sheep,
Lower 48,
Aswad,
Bad Manners,
Jeff Mills,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.