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 Fiji and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Underground Resistance to the dance 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Todd Terry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mandrill,
Robert Hood,
Freddie Wadling,
the Bar-Kays,
Suburban Knight,
Desert Stars,
Audionom,
The Standells,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
The Skatalites,
Bang On A Can,
the Soft Cell,
Black Flag,
Lungfish,
Frankie Knuckles,
New Age Steppers,
Byron Stingily,
Grandmaster Flash,
Don Cherry,
The Black Dice,
Quadrant,
Motorama,
Niagra,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sandy B,
LL Cool J,
Connie Case,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gong,
Ice-T,
Kenny Larkin,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sex Pistols,
Gang of Four,
Unwound,
The Real Kids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pierre Henry,
Laurel Aitken,
Whodini,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lalann,
Black Sheep,
Tears for Fears,
Adolescents,
Lakeside,
The Gap Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharoah Sanders,
Oblivians,
Pantaleimon,
Sun Ra,
The Last Poets,
Eve St. Jones,
Alton Ellis,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.