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 Palau and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Crispy Ambulance to the crunk 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Index,
Jimmy McGriff,
Half Japanese,
Average White Band,
Pantaleimon,
The Dave Clark Five,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jacob Miller,
Man Parrish,
Jeff Mills,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Magazine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Grass Roots,
MDC,
X-101,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jawbox,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Angels of Light,
The Velvet Underground,
Masters at Work,
Babytalk,
Connie Case,
Roxy Music,
Quadrant,
Patti Smith,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Depeche Mode,
Brick,
KRS-One,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Vladislav Delay,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Outsiders,
Althea and Donna,
Barrington Levy,
Bluetip,
Byron Stingily,
The Misunderstood,
Flipper,
Lower 48,
Q65,
Fugazi,
The Stooges,
Lakeside,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dual Sessions,
Peter & Gordon,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Vogues,
The Cosmic Jokers,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.