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 Netherlands and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
Maurizio,
Tubeway Army,
John Lydon,
Eurythmics,
The New Christs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Excepter,
Clear Light,
Freddie Wadling,
The Smoke,
UT,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Josef K,
The Offenders,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bauhaus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Brass Construction,
Don Cherry,
The Divine Comedy,
Ludus,
Wally Richardson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Todd Rundgren,
Rod Modell,
the Soft Cell,
The Litter,
Soft Cell,
Smog,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pierre Henry,
Hasil Adkins,
Ponytail,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Niagra,
Pole,
The Mummies,
Albert Ayler,
Hoover,
Main Source,
T.S.O.L.,
Shoche,
Dead Boys,
Newcleus,
The Gladiators,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Barracudas,
Man Parrish,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Germs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lungfish,
Section 25,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.