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 Qatar and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alton Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dead C,
Can,
Deadbeat,
The Zeros,
Steve Hackett,
Severed Heads,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eric B and Rakim,
Von Mondo,
Sight & Sound,
The J.B.'s,
Y Pants,
Bush Tetras,
The Cure,
Eurythmics,
Funkadelic,
The Invisible,
Crime,
Spandau Ballet,
The Happenings,
Lungfish,
Cluster,
10cc,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bronski Beat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Radio Birdman,
Jawbox,
Jeff Mills,
Rekid,
Depeche Mode,
Camouflage,
Ice-T,
Jandek,
The Dirtbombs,
Cal Tjader,
Lightning Bolt,
Boredoms,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Divine Comedy,
Kerri Chandler,
Loose Ends,
Smog,
Ten City,
The Barracudas,
Funky Four + One,
Radiopuhelimet,
Laurel Aitken,
Outsiders,
Tim Buckley,
Khruangbin,
Franke,
Carl Craig,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Bananas,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Big Daddy Kane,
Alphaville,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Soft Cell,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.