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 Germany and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Moody Blues to the disco 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tubeway Army,
China Crisis,
Monolake,
Roy Ayers,
Tres Demented,
The Misunderstood,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Donald Byrd,
Black Bananas,
Interpol,
Bobby Womack,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Techniques,
Girls At Our Best!,
OOIOO,
Danielle Patucci,
the Slits,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Babytalk,
Crash Course in Science,
Laurel Aitken,
Bob Dylan,
Junior Murvin,
Chrome,
The Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smoke,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Model 500,
Royal Trux,
Crispian St. Peters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Pus,
Andrew Hill,
Barrington Levy,
The Birthday Party,
Josef K,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiohead,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Guru Guru,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Swans,
June Days,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Erykah Badu,
Country Teasers,
Masters at Work,
The Last Poets,
Peter and Kerry,
The Sound,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ken Boothe,
Simply Red,
Robert Hood,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.