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 Botswana and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Vainqueur to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Prince Buster,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The New Christs,
a-ha,
Terry Callier,
The Cure,
The Leaves,
Faust,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Swell Maps,
Radiopuhelimet,
Magma,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Knickerbockers,
Fad Gadget,
Harmonia,
Gichy Dan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jeff Mills,
Chris Corsano,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Fire Engines,
The Trojans,
Cheater Slicks,
Lalann,
Donald Byrd,
The Mojo Men,
Circle Jerks,
Suburban Knight,
The Red Krayola,
The Mummies,
James White and The Blacks,
These Immortal Souls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Invisible,
Joy Division,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David Bowie,
Nas,
Colin Newman,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Coltrane,
Grauzone,
D'Angelo,
the Sonics,
Isaac Hayes,
Lou Reed,
The Barracudas,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ituana,
Los Fastidios,
Judy Mowatt,
Idris Muhammad,
Andrew Hill,
Sixth Finger,
Glenn Branca,
Flipper,
Steve Hackett,
The United States of America,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.