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 Syria and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dirtbombs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Stetsasonic,
Al Stewart,
The Fall,
La Düsseldorf,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ronnie Foster,
Joe Finger,
Tomorrow,
Smog,
Blancmange,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Chrome,
Section 25,
The Skatalites,
Audionom,
Albert Ayler,
The Happenings,
Gang Starr,
Con Funk Shun,
Sun Ra,
Surgeon,
Janne Schatter,
The Durutti Column,
Brass Construction,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kurtis Blow,
Sun City Girls,
Ohio Players,
Man Parrish,
Agent Orange,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camouflage,
The Red Krayola,
Ronan,
Flash Fearless,
Alison Limerick,
Marc Almond,
Black Bananas,
The Busters,
Robert Görl,
Flipper,
Pulsallama,
Massinfluence,
New York Dolls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oneida,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Outsiders,
Lindisfarne,
Porter Ricks,
Monolake,
Fat Boys,
KRS-One,
Robert Hood,
10cc,
David Bowie,
Eddi Front,
Sexual Harrassment,
Basic Channel,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.