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 Cape Verde and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron 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 Minnie Riperton to the grime 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joensuu 1685 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Cymande,
Peter & Gordon,
Warsaw,
Marine Girls,
Au Pairs,
June Days,
Mars,
Lightning Bolt,
Slave,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Todd Rundgren,
The Golliwogs,
Pagans,
Amon Düül,
Camberwell Now,
Sugar Minott,
The Wake,
Alton Ellis,
Bush Tetras,
Hashim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Sonics,
Cecil Taylor,
Yellowson,
The Standells,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angry Samoans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roxette,
Fear,
Reagan Youth,
Average White Band,
Urselle,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Aural Exciters,
Porter Ricks,
Brand Nubian,
Severed Heads,
Flash Fearless,
The Cure,
Can,
The Gun Club,
Brick,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tommy Roe,
Inner City,
Subhumans,
Carl Craig,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Little Man,
Brothers Johnson,
Television,
Duran Duran,
Al Stewart,
David Axelrod,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Birthday Party,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.