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 Gabon and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 rhodes 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tom Boy,
Andrew Hill,
Blancmange,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fugazi,
Arthur Verocai,
Mr. Review,
The Fire Engines,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Sheep,
Icehouse,
Hardrive,
Man Parrish,
The Pretty Things,
Sandy B,
The Smoke,
Black Moon,
Pantytec,
Sonny Sharrock,
Erasure,
Roy Ayers,
Monolake,
Talk Talk,
The Names,
The Standells,
Lou Reed,
The Toasters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Aswad,
Kerri Chandler,
Deadbeat,
Crime,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Residents,
Hot Snakes,
Piero Umiliani,
Leonard Cohen,
PIL,
Marc Almond,
Al Stewart,
New Age Steppers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Bananas,
The Divine Comedy,
Cal Tjader,
Stiv Bators,
Yazoo,
Aloha Tigers,
MC5,
Amon Düül,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marcia Griffiths,
Albert Ayler,
Tropical Tobacco,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ten City,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.