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 Dominican Republic and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Nik Kershaw to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Skaos,
Dead Boys,
Guru Guru,
Mary Jane Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soul II Soul,
E-Dancer,
In Retrospect,
Kerri Chandler,
Bill Wells,
Scrapy,
Mr. Review,
Henry Cow,
Black Moon,
Can,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Evens,
Cal Tjader,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Saints,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Animal Collective,
Gichy Dan,
The Count Five,
Simply Red,
Newcleus,
The Busters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Oblivians,
New Order,
Ituana,
Minnie Riperton,
Darondo,
Albert Ayler,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monolake,
Stetsasonic,
The Gun Club,
Don Cherry,
June Days,
Janne Schatter,
Scion,
Icehouse,
Toni Rubio,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wire,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sex Pistols,
The Invisible,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Oneida,
Monks,
Jawbox,
the Human League,
Rotary Connection,
Agent Orange,
Robert Görl,
Funky Four + One,
Thompson Twins,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.