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 Cameroon and from London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Duran Duran record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
The Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lakeside,
The Red Krayola,
This Heat,
The Cowsills,
Marine Girls,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Monochrome Set,
Mission of Burma,
U.S. Maple,
Pulsallama,
Barbara Tucker,
Kaleidoscope,
Drive Like Jehu,
Maleditus Sound,
Pagans,
Mad Mike,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Selecter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sam Rivers,
The Offenders,
Magazine,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Knickerbockers,
Albert Ayler,
Los Fastidios,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ten City,
June of 44,
Babytalk,
Pet Shop Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Chrome,
Eric Copeland,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wolf Eyes,
Au Pairs,
Quadrant,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerri Chandler,
The Smoke,
Can,
Yaz,
Soulsonic Force,
Model 500,
The Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Neil Young,
Ponytail,
Davy DMX,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Vogues,
Peter & Gordon,
Idris Muhammad,
Rosa Yemen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.