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 Lebanon and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Audionom to the grunge 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 Quadrant. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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 Techniques,
Make Up,
Maleditus Sound,
Fat Boys,
Hoover,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Beau Brummels,
Soulsonic Force,
China Crisis,
The Busters,
The Fall,
Alton Ellis,
Nirvana,
Von Mondo,
Lalann,
Tropical Tobacco,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Funkadelic,
Fatback Band,
Henry Cow,
Dark Day,
Roy Ayers,
Malaria!,
Slick Rick,
The Tremeloes,
Minnie Riperton,
Deepchord,
Howard Jones,
Oblivians,
Blossom Toes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
LL Cool J,
Agent Orange,
Camberwell Now,
The Vogues,
L. Decosne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Magma,
Lower 48,
Simply Red,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gang Starr,
Buzzcocks,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
Tim Buckley,
Erasure,
Monks,
Hot Snakes,
Goldenarms,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Cure,
the Association,
Second Layer,
Todd Terry,
Can,
Scion,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.