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 Iraq and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Blancmange to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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?
Symarip,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lower 48,
Flipper,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Todd Terry,
Sound Behaviour,
Eric Copeland,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bronski Beat,
Davy DMX,
The Star Department,
Pagans,
Suicide,
Darondo,
Faust,
Cal Tjader,
The Count Five,
The Doors,
the Germs,
Monks,
Lou Reed,
Groovy Waters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Judy Mowatt,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Spandau Ballet,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dead C,
Mantronix,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mission of Burma,
The Pretty Things,
Robert Hood,
the Bar-Kays,
Carl Craig,
Young Marble Giants,
Anakelly,
Lee Hazlewood,
Archie Shepp,
Smog,
U.S. Maple,
Sight & Sound,
Organ,
Morten Harket,
Wally Richardson,
Juan Atkins,
Kenny Larkin,
Accadde A,
Glenn Branca,
Boogie Down Productions,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Maurizio,
Grauzone,
Byron Stingily,
Sister Nancy,
Kurtis Blow,
The Dirtbombs,
Loose Ends,
The Names,
The Techniques,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.