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 Papua New Guinea and from Beijing.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator 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 Ralphi Rosario to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Symarip,
Thee Headcoats,
Monks,
DNA,
Ronan,
The Searchers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Sonics,
The Golliwogs,
The Buckinghams,
The Standells,
Roxette,
New Age Steppers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sonics,
Circle Jerks,
Shuggie Otis,
Morten Harket,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Funky Four + One,
The Cramps,
ABBA,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
B.T. Express,
Soul II Soul,
Drive Like Jehu,
Oblivians,
Anthony Braxton,
The United States of America,
Fatback Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vladislav Delay,
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crime,
Model 500,
Yazoo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
F. McDonald,
Bluetip,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang of Four,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dorothy Ashby,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Easy Going,
The Misunderstood,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Liliput,
The American Breed,
Interpol,
The Pretty Things,
Freddie Wadling,
Marc Almond,
Duran Duran,
Donny Hathaway,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.