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 Lithuania and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 808 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 U.S. Maple to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Quando Quango,
Althea and Donna,
Arthur Verocai,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nirvana,
Agitation Free,
Robert Wyatt,
Davy DMX,
Don Cherry,
Jeff Lynne,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roxy Music,
Fluxion,
The Electric Prunes,
Technova,
Chris & Cosey,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Porter Ricks,
EPMD,
Gang Green,
Chrome,
Hot Snakes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Country Teasers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rufus Thomas,
Cameo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Audionom,
Hashim,
Scott Walker,
Make Up,
Tom Boy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mars,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Womack,
Fear,
Sonny Sharrock,
Idris Muhammad,
Brass Construction,
Spoonie Gee,
The Toasters,
Television Personalities,
The Gap Band,
Arcadia,
Section 25,
E-Dancer,
Gang of Four,
Rosa Yemen,
Suburban Knight,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mr. Review,
Bill Wells,
Vladislav Delay,
Harpers Bizarre,
Babytalk,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.