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 Barbados and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Copenhagen.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Amon Düül to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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?
Scott Walker,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wire,
Jeff Mills,
Kenny Larkin,
The Gladiators,
the Normal,
Sugar Minott,
Skriet,
Eric Copeland,
Mo-Dettes,
Prince Buster,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Residents,
Marshall Jefferson,
Loose Ends,
Avey Tare,
K-Klass,
Dorothy Ashby,
Con Funk Shun,
UT,
F. McDonald,
T.S.O.L.,
Rapeman,
Junior Murvin,
Brand Nubian,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Youth Brigade,
Scion,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tears for Fears,
The Golliwogs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Underground Resistance,
Deepchord,
Kerrie Biddell,
Subhumans,
Bad Manners,
Sam Rivers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Qualms,
Spoonie Gee,
Sex Pistols,
Interpol,
Harmonia,
Ultra Naté,
The Blackbyrds,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Blancmange,
Roger Hodgson,
Siglo XX,
Eurythmics,
the Association,
Surgeon,
The Birthday Party,
Mad Mike,
John Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
Scan 7,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.