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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Chris Corsano to the funk 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 Soul II Soul. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Vogues,
Mark Hollis,
Gong,
Soulsonic Force,
The J.B.'s,
Matthew Bourne,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Martian,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Quantec,
Intrusion,
the Normal,
Brothers Johnson,
Suicide,
Gerry Rafferty,
Man Parrish,
Moebius,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Parry Music,
R.M.O.,
X-Ray Spex,
The Raincoats,
Chris & Cosey,
Public Enemy,
T. Rex,
Cybotron,
The Litter,
Adolescents,
The Golliwogs,
T.S.O.L.,
Roxette,
Jesper Dahlback,
China Crisis,
The Fugs,
The Cramps,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cymande,
Bad Manners,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tim Buckley,
David McCallum,
Aloha Tigers,
Agent Orange,
AZ,
Boredoms,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Arthur Verocai,
Stockholm Monsters,
Erykah Badu,
Babytalk,
Loose Ends,
Deadbeat,
The Blackbyrds,
These Immortal Souls,
Albert Ayler,
B.T. Express,
Dual Sessions,
The Barracudas,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.