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 Moldova and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Metal Thangz to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Robert Wyatt,
Symarip,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joe Smooth,
The Pretty Things,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tears for Fears,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Grass Roots,
Can,
Model 500,
Television Personalities,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Agent Orange,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Chris & Cosey,
Motorama,
Aswad,
Mr. Review,
Scrapy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
EPMD,
Sparks,
Bang On A Can,
F. McDonald,
Trumans Water,
Pere Ubu,
Prince Buster,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Barracudas,
The Offenders,
Icehouse,
ABBA,
The Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
the Slits,
Popol Vuh,
The Smoke,
The Residents,
Absolute Body Control,
Ohio Players,
ABC,
Alphaville,
The Velvet Underground,
Television,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Detroit Cobras,
Reuben Wilson,
Dennis Brown,
Quando Quango,
Godley & Creme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Iggy Pop,
T.S.O.L.,
PIL,
The Real Kids,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.