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 Lesotho 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Soulsonic Force to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Delta 5,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Glambeats Corp.,
Godley & Creme,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
The Trojans,
The J.B.'s,
Glenn Branca,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Monks,
Scientists,
Rekid,
Smog,
Steve Hackett,
Jawbox,
Essential Logic,
Donny Hathaway,
Bad Manners,
The Gap Band,
Livin' Joy,
Sun City Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Albert Ayler,
Charles Mingus,
Tubeway Army,
Scan 7,
The Litter,
Johnny Clarke,
Magma,
Ultra Naté,
Country Teasers,
Fluxion,
Dawn Penn,
Monolake,
Eddi Front,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eric Copeland,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
L. Decosne,
The Leaves,
The Golliwogs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Peter & Gordon,
Infiniti,
Negative Approach,
Desert Stars,
Subhumans,
Average White Band,
Gichy Dan,
Eve St. Jones,
Colin Newman,
Big Daddy Kane,
Quando Quango,
Joyce Sims,
Minutemen,
Outsiders,
Lebanon Hanover,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.