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 Burkina and from Lyon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Alice Coltrane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Reuben Wilson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantaleimon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Robert Görl,
Sister Nancy,
Reagan Youth,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dirtbombs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Audionom,
Drexciya,
Fatback Band,
Dual Sessions,
X-102,
Rotary Connection,
Desert Stars,
Black Sheep,
China Crisis,
JFA,
The Leaves,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers,
The Buckinghams,
Barrington Levy,
UT,
Metal Thangz,
Los Fastidios,
The Mummies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Quadrant,
Parry Music,
The Martian,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Todd Terry,
Trumans Water,
Jeff Lynne,
Duran Duran,
Glenn Branca,
Lucky Dragons,
Gil Scott Heron,
Severed Heads,
Gong,
Tomorrow,
Marc Almond,
David Bowie,
DJ Style,
Babytalk,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Chris & Cosey,
Sarah Menescal,
Vainqueur,
Kayak,
Y Pants,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.