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 Djibouti and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Radio Birdman to the dance 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Reagan Youth,
The Monochrome Set,
Sun City Girls,
Tom Boy,
the Soft Cell,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Motions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Trumans Water,
Television,
Kurtis Blow,
Deakin,
Juan Atkins,
Andrew Hill,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Boz Scaggs,
the Sonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Y Pants,
Laurel Aitken,
The J.B.'s,
Schoolly D,
Judy Mowatt,
The Saints,
Soul II Soul,
the Normal,
Silicon Teens,
The Beau Brummels,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arab on Radar,
X-Ray Spex,
Big Daddy Kane,
Guru Guru,
Tres Demented,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Drexciya,
48th St. Collective,
Monks,
Shuggie Otis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yellowson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scott Walker,
Magazine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
The Last Poets,
Skaos,
Public Enemy,
Porter Ricks,
Shoche,
Donald Byrd,
AZ,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Human League,
Infiniti,
Quantec,
The Sisters of Mercy,
K-Klass,
Motorama,
Rakim,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.