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 Czech Republic and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mumbai.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the crunk 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
The Dead C,
Wally Richardson,
Tubeway Army,
a-ha,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eddi Front,
The Raincoats,
X-Ray Spex,
The Motions,
The Slits,
The Happenings,
Ken Boothe,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Babytalk,
Dead Boys,
Bad Manners,
Lindisfarne,
The Monks,
Newcleus,
Depeche Mode,
Bizarre Inc.,
Malaria!,
Black Pus,
Derrick May,
Excepter,
Sandy B,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Second Layer,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare,
Simply Red,
Sun City Girls,
Adolescents,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Five Americans,
Dawn Penn,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kayak,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Duran Duran,
Althea and Donna,
Quantec,
DJ Style,
Jeff Lynne,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dorothy Ashby,
Section 25,
Thompson Twins,
Curtis Mayfield,
Brothers Johnson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Sonics,
Thee Headcoats,
Bill Wells,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Human League,
Crime,
DJ Sneak,
Tomorrow,
Sister Nancy,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.