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 Colombia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 The Dirtbombs to the funk 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Funky Four + One,
Amazonics,
Mad Mike,
Alice Coltrane,
Lungfish,
Japan,
Minutemen,
Roy Ayers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Moon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dorothy Ashby,
Inner City,
10cc,
Negative Approach,
Ten City,
The Pop Group,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Index,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Circle Jerks,
Brand Nubian,
ABBA,
The Beau Brummels,
Accadde A,
Nation of Ulysses,
Andrew Hill,
The Pretty Things,
Fela Kuti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Susan Cadogan,
Soul II Soul,
F. McDonald,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Divine Comedy,
The Young Rascals,
Rapeman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Model 500,
Bad Manners,
New Age Steppers,
The Human League,
This Heat,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultravox,
Massinfluence,
Scott Walker,
Hot Snakes,
Sex Pistols,
Loose Ends,
Mark Hollis,
Black Pus,
Fat Boys,
Spandau Ballet,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fortunes,
The Sound,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Soft Machine,
Metal Thangz,
Roxy Music,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.