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 Burkina and from Lagos.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Audionom to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Jerry's Kids,
Drexciya,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Arcadia,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Move,
Camouflage,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alice Coltrane,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Quando Quango,
Absolute Body Control,
the Human League,
Livin' Joy,
The Barracudas,
Jacques Brel,
EPMD,
Carl Craig,
Angry Samoans,
Pussy Galore,
The Standells,
The Pop Group,
Mandrill,
Ultra Naté,
kango's stein massive,
Lebanon Hanover,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pere Ubu,
Lyres,
Johnny Osbourne,
Royal Trux,
Duran Duran,
Ludus,
LL Cool J,
Deepchord,
The Dave Clark Five,
Thee Headcoats,
Kerri Chandler,
F. McDonald,
Easy Going,
Ossler,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pylon,
Groovy Waters,
Jawbox,
Eve St. Jones,
Barbara Tucker,
Prince Buster,
Deadbeat,
Jandek,
Maleditus Sound,
Country Teasers,
Bronski Beat,
Lakeside,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Red Krayola,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eddi Front,
The Cure,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.