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 Bahamas and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Scratch Acid to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Scott Walker,
Clear Light,
Easy Going,
The Pretty Things,
The Wake,
Sound Behaviour,
Hoover,
The Selecter,
Urselle,
New Age Steppers,
Adolescents,
John Holt,
Tres Demented,
Dual Sessions,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Womack,
Duran Duran,
F. McDonald,
Bootsy Collins,
Monks,
Davy DMX,
Crash Course in Science,
Infiniti,
Johnny Clarke,
Wally Richardson,
Khruangbin,
Alice Coltrane,
The Residents,
Rufus Thomas,
Can,
Subhumans,
The Knickerbockers,
Skaos,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Slackers,
Buzzcocks,
Rotary Connection,
Sex Pistols,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-101,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry's Kids,
Camouflage,
Organ,
Cybotron,
Nirvana,
Ossler,
The Red Krayola,
Neu!,
K-Klass,
Black Moon,
Minutemen,
Roxy Music,
Tom Boy,
Harry Pussy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mission of Burma,
Mantronix,
Soft Cell,
Bush Tetras,
Sister Nancy,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.