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 Korea North and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pantytec 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Golliwogs,
Joy Division,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Litter,
This Heat,
H. Thieme,
Sam Rivers,
The Saints,
Tom Boy,
48th St. Collective,
Marc Almond,
Kurtis Blow,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Television,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bronski Beat,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Terry Callier,
Marvin Gaye,
Guru Guru,
Ultravox,
Dennis Brown,
Faraquet,
Joyce Sims,
Radiohead,
Stetsasonic,
The Angels of Light,
Ice-T,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Index,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
Public Image Ltd.,
Moebius,
Godley & Creme,
The Tremeloes,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Knickerbockers,
Q and Not U,
Franke,
Reagan Youth,
LL Cool J,
Johnny Clarke,
Mr. Review,
Outsiders,
Man Eating Sloth,
Freddie Wadling,
Amon Düül,
K-Klass,
Panda Bear,
X-Ray Spex,
The Skatalites,
Bob Dylan,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.