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 Luxembourg and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Flag to the crunk 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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
The Techniques,
Sister Nancy,
Funky Four + One,
Grey Daturas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Letta Mbulu,
Janne Schatter,
AZ,
Porter Ricks,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
Jacques Brel,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
David McCallum,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scion,
The Associates,
The Stooges,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cecil Taylor,
Wasted Youth,
T. Rex,
Minor Threat,
Mandrill,
Frankie Knuckles,
Motorama,
Rekid,
Desert Stars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
James White and The Blacks,
Guru Guru,
The Pop Group,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lyres,
R.M.O.,
the Sonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Alphaville,
Gang Gang Dance,
The J.B.'s,
The Dirtbombs,
Reuben Wilson,
Schoolly D,
Con Funk Shun,
Deakin,
Agitation Free,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Red Krayola,
Half Japanese,
Scratch Acid,
Tom Boy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Young Marble Giants,
Arcadia,
Spandau Ballet,
Tubeway Army,
the Germs,
Lalann,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.