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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 sitar 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 Nas to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
The Pretty Things,
Scientists,
Fat Boys,
The Dave Clark Five,
Wasted Youth,
Newcleus,
Lalann,
The Evens,
Pantytec,
Matthew Bourne,
Spandau Ballet,
H. Thieme,
Charles Mingus,
Eddi Front,
Jesper Dahlback,
Josef K,
Wally Richardson,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Average White Band,
Nas,
Arab on Radar,
Unwound,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Doors,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Grass Roots,
Arcadia,
The Human League,
The Smiths,
U.S. Maple,
MDC,
the Association,
Aural Exciters,
Wings,
La Düsseldorf,
Lindisfarne,
Kerri Chandler,
Marc Almond,
The Barracudas,
Brick,
Stetsasonic,
Flash Fearless,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Groovy Waters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rekid,
The Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faust,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deakin,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Moon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Moody Blues,
the Swans,
Pylon,
Fatback Band,
Supertramp,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.