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 Ireland and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Charles Mingus to the dance 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Searchers,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pussy Galore,
Subhumans,
KRS-One,
Qualms,
Lee Hazlewood,
Spandau Ballet,
The Move,
Fad Gadget,
Radiohead,
Flipper,
Sixth Finger,
John Cale,
Kenny Larkin,
Fugazi,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Scientists,
Bill Near,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Moody Blues,
the Sonics,
Nils Olav,
The Stooges,
The Standells,
Byron Stingily,
The Busters,
Niagra,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun Ra,
Mission of Burma,
Moebius,
Unrelated Segments,
Gichy Dan,
Unwound,
Bauhaus,
The Grass Roots,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Max Romeo,
Mark Hollis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Sheep,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pantaleimon,
Wire,
Avey Tare,
Black Moon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fluxion,
Blancmange,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brand Nubian,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.