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 Niger and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Franke to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sound Behaviour,
Shuggie Otis,
Glenn Branca,
The Moody Blues,
Pantaleimon,
Robert Wyatt,
Roxette,
Nirvana,
Desert Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
Carl Craig,
David McCallum,
Nas,
Masters at Work,
The Pretty Things,
The Birthday Party,
Crash Course in Science,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Visage,
Black Moon,
T. Rex,
The Litter,
The Motions,
Bill Near,
Erykah Badu,
Symarip,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rakim,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marvin Gaye,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Residents,
Drive Like Jehu,
Suicide,
Sixth Finger,
Electric Prunes,
Cal Tjader,
Rufus Thomas,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Move,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Kinks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tom Boy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Zapp,
The Beau Brummels,
The Last Poets,
Mo-Dettes,
Yusef Lateef,
the Human League,
Little Man,
Q65,
Alphaville,
Quando Quango,
Hoover,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radio Birdman,
Whodini,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.