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 Libya and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
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 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 Deepchord to the grunge 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cluster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Adolescents,
The Vogues,
48th St. Collective,
Make Up,
Stetsasonic,
The Birthday Party,
Connie Case,
Anthony Braxton,
Boredoms,
Dead Boys,
The Music Machine,
Girls At Our Best!,
China Crisis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Robert Wyatt,
Severed Heads,
The Raincoats,
Arab on Radar,
The Toasters,
Excepter,
The Names,
Procol Harum,
Tim Buckley,
Sight & Sound,
Brand Nubian,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Soft Cell,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bluetip,
Masters at Work,
The Star Department,
Motorama,
John Coltrane,
Bauhaus,
Von Mondo,
Wire,
The Dead C,
Amazonics,
Alison Limerick,
Electric Prunes,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Darondo,
Index,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Misunderstood,
JFA,
Bronski Beat,
Soul II Soul,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Todd Rundgren,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kurtis Blow,
Marshall Jefferson,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.