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 Luxembourg and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the crunk 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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Nick Fraelich,
Stiv Bators,
Oneida,
The Slackers,
Sällskapet,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lower 48,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Motions,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Frankie Knuckles,
Erykah Badu,
Bluetip,
Jesper Dahlback,
Donald Byrd,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
Rekid,
Bill Wells,
Rites of Spring,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Freddie Wadling,
Qualms,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barry Ungar,
Carl Craig,
Marine Girls,
Althea and Donna,
X-101,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Womack,
The Young Rascals,
John Holt,
Jawbox,
Suicide,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hot Snakes,
Jandek,
Isaac Hayes,
The Doors,
The Gladiators,
Fad Gadget,
Boz Scaggs,
Joensuu 1685,
Bootsy Collins,
Cluster,
Whodini,
Slave,
Sixth Finger,
The Cramps,
Black Bananas,
Franke,
Roger Hodgson,
Eddi Front,
The Modern Lovers,
Bronski Beat,
The Last Poets,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.