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 United States and from London.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Subhumans to the crunk 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
The Names,
Bobby Byrd,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Grass Roots,
Lungfish,
Derrick May,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Index,
The Mojo Men,
Lower 48,
the Bar-Kays,
Scan 7,
Grauzone,
Slave,
Quando Quango,
Leonard Cohen,
Bizarre Inc.,
a-ha,
Country Teasers,
Cluster,
Wings,
MC5,
Tres Demented,
Smog,
Radio Birdman,
The Monochrome Set,
Deakin,
Wolf Eyes,
The Vogues,
The New Christs,
Panda Bear,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Erykah Badu,
Boredoms,
Ornette Coleman,
Howard Jones,
The American Breed,
Cymande,
Boogie Down Productions,
Spandau Ballet,
Dead Boys,
Duran Duran,
Patti Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Letta Mbulu,
Kenny Larkin,
Mary Jane Girls,
Toni Rubio,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pantytec,
Accadde A,
Marvin Gaye,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gun Club,
Brand Nubian,
Negative Approach,
Theoretical Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Zero Boys,
Au Pairs,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.