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 East Timor and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Donald Byrd to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
The Index,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sällskapet,
Talk Talk,
Q and Not U,
Radio Birdman,
Nik Kershaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tommy Roe,
Sun City Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sun Ra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Suicide,
Fad Gadget,
Sonny Sharrock,
Joy Division,
The Associates,
Eurythmics,
Jeff Lynne,
The Zeros,
Lakeside,
MC5,
Crooked Eye,
Roxy Music,
Robert Wyatt,
Pole,
Stiv Bators,
The Beau Brummels,
Moby Grape,
Albert Ayler,
Lou Christie,
Nirvana,
Peter and Kerry,
Sugar Minott,
Reuben Wilson,
Wally Richardson,
Harpers Bizarre,
F. McDonald,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mummies,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Piero Umiliani,
Marine Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eli Mardock,
Jacob Miller,
The Pretty Things,
Letta Mbulu,
Max Romeo,
Gong,
Mars,
Mandrill,
Ponytail,
La Düsseldorf,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.