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 Sri Lanka and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Accadde A to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dual Sessions,
Matthew Halsall,
Whodini,
The Blues Magoos,
The Star Department,
Lower 48,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
Boz Scaggs,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Divine Comedy,
X-102,
The Birthday Party,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Offenders,
The Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
Can,
The Slits,
Skaos,
Slick Rick,
Country Teasers,
The Cramps,
the Soft Cell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ornette Coleman,
Harry Pussy,
Sparks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Boredoms,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cybotron,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joensuu 1685,
The Fugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soft Machine,
Charles Mingus,
The Monks,
Fluxion,
Harmonia,
Magazine,
These Immortal Souls,
Eddi Front,
Section 25,
Pet Shop Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Drive Like Jehu,
Half Japanese,
Dark Day,
Bronski Beat,
Derrick Morgan,
Radio Birdman,
D'Angelo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Accadde A,
Dawn Penn,
Sixth Finger,
Masters at Work,
Jawbox,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.