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 Kyrgyzstan and from Woodstock.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Glambeats Corp. to the disco 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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic,
Pantytec,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Metal Thangz,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Blackbyrds,
Depeche Mode,
Rufus Thomas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Arab on Radar,
The Slackers,
Dark Day,
The Beau Brummels,
The Pretty Things,
Nik Kershaw,
Jacques Brel,
Zapp,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pantaleimon,
Ornette Coleman,
Porter Ricks,
Godley & Creme,
Gang Starr,
Nico,
New York Dolls,
Reagan Youth,
Grey Daturas,
The Fire Engines,
Duran Duran,
Erasure,
Young Marble Giants,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cecil Taylor,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Howard Jones,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Agitation Free,
Black Pus,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Vogues,
Minnie Riperton,
Lou Christie,
Bobby Womack,
Unrelated Segments,
Hasil Adkins,
10cc,
Juan Atkins,
Roy Ayers,
Bluetip,
Sonic Youth,
David Bowie,
Joe Finger,
Bootsy Collins,
Quantec,
Nirvana,
Dead Boys,
Fat Boys,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.