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 Swaziland and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Michael McDonald 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 Stiv Bators to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
The Walker Brothers,
Tubeway Army,
Spoonie Gee,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Basic Channel,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Johnny Clarke,
The United States of America,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Monks,
Lightning Bolt,
Susan Cadogan,
The Durutti Column,
Kayak,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantytec,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
Quadrant,
Bobby Byrd,
Duran Duran,
John Coltrane,
Graham Central Station,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eden Ahbez,
the Fania All-Stars,
Magma,
The Standells,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Delta 5,
Monolake,
Eric Copeland,
The Techniques,
Roger Hodgson,
The Moody Blues,
the Association,
The Flesh Eaters,
UT,
Rapeman,
Neil Young,
Gang of Four,
Pere Ubu,
the Bar-Kays,
Nils Olav,
Chris & Cosey,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aswad,
Rod Modell,
The Smoke,
Iggy Pop,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sparks,
Marine Girls,
Bronski Beat,
The Count Five,
Liliput,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeff Mills,
This Heat,
Sällskapet,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.