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 Iceland and from Cairo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the funk 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
Absolute Body Control,
Chrome,
Stiv Bators,
Banda Bassotti,
Scan 7,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harmonia,
Roger Hodgson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Pretty Things,
World's Most,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stockholm Monsters,
Albert Ayler,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donny Hathaway,
Minor Threat,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rapeman,
These Immortal Souls,
Henry Cow,
the Bar-Kays,
The Gap Band,
Minnie Riperton,
The Residents,
Moebius,
Mantronix,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Inner City,
The Index,
The Trojans,
New York Dolls,
Chris Corsano,
The Knickerbockers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Organ,
Moby Grape,
New Age Steppers,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The American Breed,
Peter and Kerry,
Brick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Intrusion,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fad Gadget,
AZ,
Gregory Isaacs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Easy Going,
Excepter,
Unrelated Segments,
Kurtis Blow,
Country Teasers,
Shuggie Otis,
The Divine Comedy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.