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 Chile and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb 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 Camouflage to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Judy Mowatt,
Gang Green,
Anakelly,
Minutemen,
H. Thieme,
Rod Modell,
Radio Birdman,
Gastr Del Sol,
DNA,
Excepter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ten City,
The Cowsills,
Goldenarms,
Godley & Creme,
Mr. Review,
The Star Department,
Sun City Girls,
Guru Guru,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roxette,
Joe Smooth,
Dawn Penn,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Moody Blues,
Reuben Wilson,
The Wake,
Andrew Hill,
Babytalk,
Vladislav Delay,
Bill Near,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
David Axelrod,
Bang On A Can,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Subhumans,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cybotron,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Derrick May,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bush Tetras,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Martian,
The Count Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amazonics,
Intrusion,
Funky Four + One,
Bobby Womack,
Robert Hood,
X-Ray Spex,
Warsaw,
Suburban Knight,
Lucky Dragons,
The Dave Clark Five,
Skriet,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
T.S.O.L.,
David Bowie,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.