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 Burundi and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet 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 Sällskapet to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Oblivians,
Eric Dolphy,
Moebius,
The Cowsills,
Marine Girls,
The Pretty Things,
The Moody Blues,
EPMD,
Motorama,
H. Thieme,
Youth Brigade,
Black Sheep,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Offenders,
R.M.O.,
Rhythm & Sound,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sight & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Livin' Joy,
the Slits,
Pylon,
PIL,
Black Pus,
Fad Gadget,
Qualms,
Wire,
Hasil Adkins,
U.S. Maple,
The Knickerbockers,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Sherman,
The Slits,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Grey Daturas,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Easy Going,
Jesper Dahlback,
Vainqueur,
Warsaw,
Severed Heads,
China Crisis,
Albert Ayler,
Suburban Knight,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lindisfarne,
Ornette Coleman,
Aswad,
Television,
Dave Gahan,
Matthew Bourne,
The Durutti Column,
Prince Buster,
The Fugs,
Blake Baxter,
Roy Ayers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Subhumans,
The Vogues,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.