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 Dominica and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Fatback Band,
The Fire Engines,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flamin' Groovies,
Duran Duran,
Loose Ends,
Wire,
Camouflage,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Model 500,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Womack,
Donny Hathaway,
Isaac Hayes,
Yellowson,
Lalann,
Royal Trux,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Dead C,
Eve St. Jones,
Thompson Twins,
Rhythm & Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Yazoo,
B.T. Express,
Scott Walker,
Goldenarms,
Roy Ayers,
Desert Stars,
The Gladiators,
Country Teasers,
Patti Smith,
David Bowie,
Essential Logic,
The Victims,
Tears for Fears,
T.S.O.L.,
The Golliwogs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tubeway Army,
Jacob Miller,
Quantec,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Drive Like Jehu,
Charles Mingus,
Joe Smooth,
The Red Krayola,
These Immortal Souls,
Theoretical Girls,
Derrick May,
Eurythmics,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tres Demented,
Magma,
Anakelly,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.