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 Honduras and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 Brothers Johnson to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Steve Hackett,
Monks,
The Seeds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Grandmaster Flash,
David Bowie,
Mark Hollis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moby Grape,
Tubeway Army,
Nation of Ulysses,
DJ Style,
Youth Brigade,
Wolf Eyes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Suburban Knight,
Spandau Ballet,
Cheater Slicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pulsallama,
Blossom Toes,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott Heron,
DNA,
Wasted Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Young Marble Giants,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Move,
Crime,
Sun City Girls,
Eden Ahbez,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ronnie Foster,
Sun Ra,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Motions,
Faraquet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Litter,
Rosa Yemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Hill,
The Durutti Column,
Procol Harum,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Saints,
Dave Gahan,
The Stooges,
Theoretical Girls,
The Music Machine,
Urselle,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Panda Bear,
Royal Trux,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.