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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Jacob Miller to the electroclash 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
The Fire Engines,
Harmonia,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Evens,
John Coltrane,
Eli Mardock,
The Names,
Suburban Knight,
Robert Hood,
Massinfluence,
Sonny Sharrock,
ABBA,
Scan 7,
Gang Gang Dance,
Blake Baxter,
World's Most,
Sister Nancy,
Bauhaus,
Magma,
Rakim,
Eurythmics,
The Monochrome Set,
Idris Muhammad,
Rufus Thomas,
Moby Grape,
Outsiders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Sheep,
Fela Kuti,
Smog,
Infiniti,
Ludus,
AZ,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jawbox,
The Gun Club,
Eve St. Jones,
Howard Jones,
Porter Ricks,
Camberwell Now,
John Foxx,
Piero Umiliani,
Avey Tare,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Audionom,
Organ,
Blossom Toes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crime,
Duran Duran,
Wings,
Harry Pussy,
Main Source,
Sun City Girls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Unrelated Segments,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.