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 Kyrgyzstan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brothers Johnson to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
The Young Rascals,
The Techniques,
Newcleus,
Theoretical Girls,
Adolescents,
Country Teasers,
Royal Trux,
T. Rex,
Maurizio,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Litter,
The Stooges,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rufus Thomas,
Severed Heads,
Barclay James Harvest,
Carl Craig,
Stetsasonic,
MDC,
Fat Boys,
Groovy Waters,
Liliput,
Barry Ungar,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Smog,
Gang of Four,
a-ha,
Alphaville,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Hill,
Rapeman,
48th St. Collective,
Excepter,
Cheater Slicks,
Jawbox,
James Chance & The Contortions,
LL Cool J,
Neil Young,
Cymande,
Zero Boys,
Oneida,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Derrick Morgan,
X-Ray Spex,
cv313,
Visage,
The Move,
Half Japanese,
Rakim,
The Star Department,
La Düsseldorf,
Traffic Nightmare,
Trumans Water,
The Five Americans,
The Kinks,
Janne Schatter,
Intrusion,
Bad Manners,
Au Pairs,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.