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 Sierra Leone and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Clear Light,
Wally Richardson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Misunderstood,
Moss Icon,
The Cowsills,
Minor Threat,
Black Bananas,
Robert Wyatt,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arab on Radar,
Sun Ra,
Sonic Youth,
Smog,
Main Source,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hoover,
Gong,
Magma,
The Fall,
Todd Rundgren,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
48th St. Collective,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Blues Magoos,
The Last Poets,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
Depeche Mode,
Jeff Mills,
Y Pants,
Barrington Levy,
Royal Trux,
Faust,
Los Fastidios,
Liliput,
Easy Going,
Public Image Ltd.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tres Demented,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Symarip,
Crime,
Youth Brigade,
Cybotron,
B.T. Express,
Kevin Saunderson,
Donny Hathaway,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Masters at Work,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mark Hollis,
Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra.
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.