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 Mauritania 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Stereo Dub,
Wasted Youth,
The Cramps,
The Velvet Underground,
Minny Pops,
Johnny Clarke,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sixth Finger,
DNA,
Chris Corsano,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Slick Rick,
Tears for Fears,
Sex Pistols,
Al Stewart,
Derrick May,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Von Mondo,
Matthew Bourne,
Davy DMX,
Easy Going,
The Divine Comedy,
Tubeway Army,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Wyatt,
Godley & Creme,
Procol Harum,
Barbara Tucker,
Quantec,
Byron Stingily,
Todd Rundgren,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Franke,
Black Bananas,
Robert Hood,
Piero Umiliani,
Faraquet,
cv313,
The Smiths,
Tommy Roe,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bill Wells,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deepchord,
Aloha Tigers,
Warren Ellis,
Ohio Players,
Sun City Girls,
The Cowsills,
Yazoo,
the Human League,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ultravox,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.