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 Kyrgyzstan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Zero Boys to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Symarip,
Albert Ayler,
Cheater Slicks,
Pantaleimon,
The Vogues,
B.T. Express,
Moss Icon,
The Smiths,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eve St. Jones,
The Durutti Column,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Byrd,
Terry Callier,
Section 25,
Pole,
Porter Ricks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Steve Hackett,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Echospace,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tubeway Army,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
John Lydon,
Index,
The Velvet Underground,
Siglo XX,
The Barracudas,
The Kinks,
The Index,
Kenny Larkin,
Maurizio,
The Cure,
Ohio Players,
World's Most,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Chrome,
Barrington Levy,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Smoke,
Al Stewart,
Dark Day,
Soul Sonic Force,
DNA,
Black Moon,
X-Ray Spex,
The Pop Group,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Last Poets,
Shuggie Otis,
Ronan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Agent Orange,
Underground Resistance,
Bootsy Collins,
Sparks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Marvin Gaye,
The Alarm Clocks,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.