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 Kazakhstan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Holger Czukay 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 The Vogues to the rap 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Bad Manners,
Faraquet,
The Buckinghams,
Gang of Four,
Skriet,
Gil Scott Heron,
Anthony Braxton,
Easy Going,
The Offenders,
The Mummies,
The Victims,
The Smoke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Agent Orange,
The American Breed,
David Bowie,
Yellowson,
Wasted Youth,
Aaron Thompson,
Guru Guru,
8 Eyed Spy,
H. Thieme,
Average White Band,
The Busters,
Reuben Wilson,
Scott Walker,
Tres Demented,
The Leaves,
Harmonia,
Parry Music,
FM Einheit,
Scientists,
Eli Mardock,
Bill Wells,
Y Pants,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Duran Duran,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sarah Menescal,
MDC,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Peter & Gordon,
The Moody Blues,
Cheater Slicks,
Angry Samoans,
Gabor Szabo,
Vainqueur,
Eric Copeland,
Rosa Yemen,
X-102,
David Axelrod,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dual Sessions,
The Selecter,
Ponytail,
Television,
Neu!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Bar-Kays,
Royal Trux,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.