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 Latvia and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sandy B to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
EPMD,
David McCallum,
Excepter,
Los Fastidios,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Slick Rick,
Al Stewart,
The Searchers,
the Soft Cell,
June Days,
Alice Coltrane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scion,
Agitation Free,
Camouflage,
These Immortal Souls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Soft Machine,
Second Layer,
ABC,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Zero Boys,
Warren Ellis,
Alison Limerick,
Byron Stingily,
Shoche,
June of 44,
Kas Product,
The Wake,
Marshall Jefferson,
Procol Harum,
Darondo,
Radiohead,
Cymande,
Lindisfarne,
Underground Resistance,
Todd Rundgren,
Tres Demented,
Stiv Bators,
Wings,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rites of Spring,
The Techniques,
Yaz,
Mandrill,
Public Image Ltd.,
Magazine,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kenny Larkin,
U.S. Maple,
Massinfluence,
Mission of Burma,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
AZ,
The Names,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
CMW,
Tubeway Army,
Nas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.