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 Dominican Republic and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Monks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
the Human League,
Black Bananas,
Tres Demented,
Cameo,
Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sound,
Thee Headcoats,
Model 500,
Kas Product,
Ten City,
Au Pairs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Buckinghams,
The Litter,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kurtis Blow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tommy Roe,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lou Reed,
Rekid,
Bobby Byrd,
Ponytail,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang Green,
Radiohead,
The Offenders,
Peter and Kerry,
Byron Stingily,
Sparks,
Urselle,
Yellowson,
Man Parrish,
Moebius,
The Durutti Column,
The Fall,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
PIL,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kaleidoscope,
Pantytec,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
The Monks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nico,
Grauzone,
Duran Duran,
the Fania All-Stars,
Easy Going,
Don Cherry,
Index,
Scientists,
Icehouse,
Bootsy Collins,
Babytalk,
The Vogues,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.