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 Tonga and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Sparks,
kango's stein massive,
Minny Pops,
The Leaves,
Camouflage,
Bill Wells,
The Alarm Clocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Morten Harket,
Outsiders,
Reagan Youth,
The Tremeloes,
Kevin Saunderson,
F. McDonald,
Dawn Penn,
Joey Negro,
Pantaleimon,
The Happenings,
The Fugs,
The Golliwogs,
DJ Style,
Lou Christie,
The Sonics,
Los Fastidios,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
Adolescents,
Godley & Creme,
Brick,
Pulsallama,
Gabor Szabo,
Can,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Patti Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
Sonic Youth,
Circle Jerks,
Trumans Water,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arab on Radar,
Skaos,
Gang Starr,
Popol Vuh,
Royal Trux,
Frankie Knuckles,
Slick Rick,
the Swans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Country Teasers,
Jandek,
Jacques Brel,
Fear,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eurythmics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.