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 Thailand and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 organ 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Big Daddy Kane,
Khruangbin,
The Grass Roots,
Pole,
Howard Jones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
AZ,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang of Four,
ABC,
Skaos,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Icehouse,
Radiohead,
Harry Pussy,
Mission of Burma,
The Fire Engines,
Cal Tjader,
The Fuzztones,
Vainqueur,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mo-Dettes,
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive,
Sugar Minott,
T.S.O.L.,
Donald Byrd,
T. Rex,
The Cowsills,
Charles Mingus,
The Red Krayola,
Average White Band,
Laurel Aitken,
Jesper Dahlback,
DJ Sneak,
Dennis Brown,
Sex Pistols,
Flash Fearless,
The Dirtbombs,
Fat Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Deepchord,
Kaleidoscope,
Kenny Larkin,
Inner City,
Rosa Yemen,
MC5,
the Human League,
Lungfish,
Siglo XX,
Ossler,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bush Tetras,
Sonic Youth,
The Trojans,
The Knickerbockers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.