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 Barbados and from Philadelphia.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rakim to the dance 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Magazine,
Steve Hackett,
Country Teasers,
Make Up,
The Skatalites,
The Vogues,
Robert Hood,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Groovy Waters,
The Count Five,
The Misunderstood,
Warsaw,
The Beau Brummels,
Trumans Water,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
David Axelrod,
Eddi Front,
The J.B.'s,
The Neon Judgement,
Amon Düül II,
Quantec,
Skriet,
Mr. Review,
John Cale,
Janne Schatter,
DJ Sneak,
The Standells,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bill Near,
EPMD,
E-Dancer,
Joe Smooth,
The Slackers,
Depeche Mode,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nation of Ulysses,
D'Angelo,
Bootsy Collins,
Dave Gahan,
Connie Case,
The Moody Blues,
Bush Tetras,
Juan Atkins,
Essential Logic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ludus,
Chris Corsano,
Rotary Connection,
Masters at Work,
The Gladiators,
Skaos,
Crooked Eye,
Model 500,
The Kinks,
Icehouse,
Toni Rubio,
Slick Rick,
Average White Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.