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 Macedonia and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Goldenarms to the funk 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
The Smoke,
Sparks,
Sam Rivers,
L. Decosne,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bang On A Can,
Excepter,
Fear,
Dead Boys,
Max Romeo,
The Litter,
Scan 7,
The Kinks,
H. Thieme,
These Immortal Souls,
The Seeds,
Lalann,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brand Nubian,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
New Age Steppers,
Davy DMX,
Amon Düül II,
The Human League,
a-ha,
Index,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
New York Dolls,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultra Naté,
Dennis Brown,
Marine Girls,
Au Pairs,
Tom Boy,
U.S. Maple,
The Dead C,
David Axelrod,
Juan Atkins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fugazi,
Altered Images,
June of 44,
David McCallum,
Black Moon,
Minny Pops,
Sarah Menescal,
Marc Almond,
The Blackbyrds,
Lucky Dragons,
Anakelly,
Aloha Tigers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Subhumans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lakeside,
The Techniques,
Public Enemy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
One Last Wish,
Warren Ellis,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.