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 Sierra Leone and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fuzztones to the grime 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
The Busters,
John Cale,
Guru Guru,
Metal Thangz,
Lindisfarne,
Don Cherry,
Roy Ayers,
Oblivians,
Blossom Toes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Skatalites,
The Move,
Pulsallama,
Derrick May,
John Foxx,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marvin Gaye,
The Vogues,
Kas Product,
Archie Shepp,
One Last Wish,
Electric Prunes,
The Barracudas,
Bill Near,
Black Bananas,
Harmonia,
T. Rex,
Main Source,
June Days,
the Human League,
Althea and Donna,
DJ Sneak,
Subhumans,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cecil Taylor,
B.T. Express,
The Slackers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric Dolphy,
Eric Copeland,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Hill,
The Index,
Oneida,
Man Parrish,
Marine Girls,
The Doors,
Yaz,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Certain Ratio,
Average White Band,
The Gap Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Isaac Hayes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Inner City,
The Five Americans,
Monks,
E-Dancer,
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.