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 Guinea and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Raincoats to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Dawn Penn,
Cluster,
Ronnie Foster,
Radio Birdman,
Skriet,
Sex Pistols,
Danielle Patucci,
Aswad,
Slave,
The Move,
a-ha,
Lightning Bolt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sun City Girls,
Quadrant,
Kenny Larkin,
Prince Buster,
Ultra Naté,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Zapp,
Au Pairs,
Grey Daturas,
The Mojo Men,
Surgeon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Black Bananas,
kango's stein massive,
Davy DMX,
Bluetip,
The Divine Comedy,
Suburban Knight,
Peter & Gordon,
F. McDonald,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
8 Eyed Spy,
Unwound,
Skarface,
ABBA,
Ultravox,
Johnny Clarke,
Juan Atkins,
Franke,
Thee Headcoats,
Talk Talk,
Bauhaus,
Skaos,
the Soft Cell,
Harpers Bizarre,
These Immortal Souls,
Nas,
Kas Product,
The Last Poets,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Agent Orange,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.