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 Vietnam and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Names to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims 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?
Brand Nubian,
Con Funk Shun,
Little Man,
Marcia Griffiths,
Arcadia,
DJ Style,
This Heat,
F. McDonald,
The Star Department,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bill Wells,
Mars,
Alphaville,
Robert Wyatt,
Eve St. Jones,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Piero Umiliani,
MDC,
a-ha,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cowsills,
Anakelly,
Eurythmics,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fuzztones,
Cymande,
X-101,
Minutemen,
New York Dolls,
The Leaves,
Skaos,
Youth Brigade,
The Toasters,
PIL,
Andrew Hill,
Pylon,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Bananas,
L. Decosne,
Schoolly D,
Tres Demented,
Iggy Pop,
the Germs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Tremeloes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Slackers,
Derrick May,
Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Vogues,
T. Rex,
Skriet,
Second Layer,
H. Thieme,
Bob Dylan,
Cheater Slicks,
Magma,
The Dead C,
the Soft Cell,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.