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 Nicaragua and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sonny Sharrock to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator 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 mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Erasure,
Accadde A,
Toni Rubio,
The Gories,
Shoche,
E-Dancer,
L. Decosne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Erykah Badu,
Joe Smooth,
Howard Jones,
Arthur Verocai,
Neu!,
Rotary Connection,
Tropical Tobacco,
Archie Shepp,
Unwound,
Tubeway Army,
The Gap Band,
CMW,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tears for Fears,
Oneida,
The Fall,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Tremeloes,
Roxette,
Little Man,
Charles Mingus,
Pole,
Popol Vuh,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fat Boys,
Das Ding,
Simply Red,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Velvet Underground,
Liliput,
The Young Rascals,
Mission of Burma,
Mad Mike,
Intrusion,
Electric Prunes,
Dark Day,
Livin' Joy,
Cymande,
Brick,
Average White Band,
Technova,
Kenny Larkin,
Piero Umiliani,
Kurtis Blow,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joyce Sims,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.