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 Belgium and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Beau Brummels 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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,
Agent Orange,
The Gories,
Intrusion,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Connie Case,
Anthony Braxton,
The Five Americans,
Guru Guru,
The Busters,
The Doors,
Gang of Four,
Piero Umiliani,
Unrelated Segments,
Ludus,
Byron Stingily,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Alarm Clocks,
China Crisis,
Underground Resistance,
Kaleidoscope,
The Stooges,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marcia Griffiths,
Au Pairs,
Crime,
David Axelrod,
Rod Modell,
Arab on Radar,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
The Kinks,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Gang Dance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Walker Brothers,
the Soft Cell,
Circle Jerks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soulsonic Force,
the Sonics,
New York Dolls,
Fad Gadget,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Funkadelic,
Terry Callier,
Morten Harket,
Icehouse,
Quando Quango,
Marmalade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Christie,
Jacques Brel,
Marvin Gaye,
Juan Atkins,
Ronan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Delon & Dalcan,
The J.B.'s,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Vainqueur,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.