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 Madagascar and from Copenhagen.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cal Tjader to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Godley & Creme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Rapeman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kerri Chandler,
Motorama,
OOIOO,
Bobby Sherman,
Mantronix,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Thee Headcoats,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Reed,
Howard Jones,
X-101,
The Toasters,
Procol Harum,
Bootsy Collins,
Los Fastidios,
Newcleus,
Das Ding,
Flamin' Groovies,
Alphaville,
The Dirtbombs,
ABBA,
Althea and Donna,
The Velvet Underground,
Kaleidoscope,
New Age Steppers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barbara Tucker,
Cybotron,
The Five Americans,
Siglo XX,
Judy Mowatt,
Brass Construction,
Eurythmics,
Radio Birdman,
Ultravox,
Junior Murvin,
Panda Bear,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Robert Hood,
Sparks,
Deadbeat,
The Birthday Party,
Radiopuhelimet,
Unwound,
Television,
Suicide,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Wyatt,
Barry Ungar,
Oblivians,
World's Most,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Warren Ellis,
Magazine,
The Tremeloes,
The Moody Blues,
Mo-Dettes,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.