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 Cyprus and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kerrie Biddell to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
F. McDonald,
Black Moon,
Eve St. Jones,
Soul II Soul,
Moebius,
The Monks,
Minny Pops,
U.S. Maple,
Monks,
Albert Ayler,
The Golliwogs,
The Gap Band,
Adolescents,
Man Eating Sloth,
Urselle,
Ralphi Rosario,
Y Pants,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
OOIOO,
Index,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bronski Beat,
The Beau Brummels,
Cymande,
Porter Ricks,
Kaleidoscope,
John Coltrane,
Cecil Taylor,
Piero Umiliani,
Arthur Verocai,
Susan Cadogan,
Maleditus Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
Surgeon,
David Bowie,
Drive Like Jehu,
Metal Thangz,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Intrusion,
Radio Birdman,
Soft Machine,
Alison Limerick,
Buzzcocks,
Technova,
The Walker Brothers,
Japan,
Sister Nancy,
The Fall,
David Axelrod,
Fear,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Reed,
Matthew Halsall,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joe Finger,
Outsiders,
Ultravox,
MDC,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.