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 Guatemala and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
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 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 The Cramps to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jacques Brel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scan 7,
John Holt,
The Smoke,
The Dead C,
Mo-Dettes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Grass Roots,
Sam Rivers,
Matthew Bourne,
Los Fastidios,
PIL,
Blossom Toes,
Funkadelic,
Sugar Minott,
Chrome,
Barbara Tucker,
Erasure,
Minny Pops,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sonny Sharrock,
Young Marble Giants,
The Sonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Sandy B,
The Selecter,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Albert Ayler,
B.T. Express,
Minnie Riperton,
The Mummies,
Byron Stingily,
The Real Kids,
Banda Bassotti,
Oblivians,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
kango's stein massive,
Sällskapet,
Reuben Wilson,
Bill Wells,
Hasil Adkins,
Erykah Badu,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lee Hazlewood,
The United States of America,
ABBA,
Cal Tjader,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring,
Deepchord,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Young Rascals,
Lebanon Hanover,
Zapp,
The Stooges,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mission of Burma,
Fatback Band,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.