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 Singapore 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 organ 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 Lungfish to the electroclash 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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Marc Almond,
The Angels of Light,
Malaria!,
Peter and Kerry,
Amazonics,
The Invisible,
Severed Heads,
Barbara Tucker,
Monolake,
The Dead C,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
Massinfluence,
Laurel Aitken,
Mantronix,
Charles Mingus,
Juan Atkins,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Slits,
JFA,
Buzzcocks,
Camouflage,
Infiniti,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hashim,
Cymande,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Isaac Hayes,
H. Thieme,
Stiv Bators,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Vainqueur,
The Beau Brummels,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Intrusion,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alphaville,
Magma,
Donald Byrd,
Scott Walker,
The Tremeloes,
This Heat,
Smog,
Crash Course in Science,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fear,
the Human League,
The Vogues,
Bauhaus,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sparks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fire Engines,
Marmalade,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Doors,
Average White Band,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.