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 Mozambique and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 L. Decosne to the rap 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ituana,
Minor Threat,
Stereo Dub,
H. Thieme,
Scott Walker,
Scientists,
Scan 7,
Skaos,
The Offenders,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Happenings,
Nas,
Cheater Slicks,
Quando Quango,
Audionom,
The Standells,
The Last Poets,
Talk Talk,
EPMD,
One Last Wish,
Pantaleimon,
a-ha,
Oneida,
Pole,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Motions,
The Barracudas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Holt,
Jerry's Kids,
Marc Almond,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lindisfarne,
Man Eating Sloth,
James White and The Blacks,
Iggy Pop,
The Moleskins,
U.S. Maple,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cymande,
Average White Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
cv313,
Derrick Morgan,
Alice Coltrane,
Crime,
Little Man,
Aswad,
Ten City,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alphaville,
the Swans,
KRS-One,
Jacob Miller,
Joe Smooth,
Boz Scaggs,
The Smoke,
Heaven 17,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.