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 Honduras and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 X-102 to the punk 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Durutti Column,
Mandrill,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minnie Riperton,
Scientists,
Anakelly,
Reagan Youth,
Angry Samoans,
Country Teasers,
Stiv Bators,
The Litter,
Moebius,
La Düsseldorf,
Thompson Twins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Carl Craig,
Kool Moe Dee,
Guru Guru,
U.S. Maple,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Pussy Galore,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Seeds,
Al Stewart,
Make Up,
These Immortal Souls,
Man Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
Urselle,
Ronnie Foster,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Agitation Free,
Peter and Kerry,
Brand Nubian,
Quantec,
The Modern Lovers,
Y Pants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Interpol,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oneida,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Todd Rundgren,
Graham Central Station,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eurythmics,
The Remains,
Simply Red,
Erasure,
Rapeman,
Derrick May,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Sherman,
Radio Birdman,
Shoche,
Morten Harket,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.