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 Mexico and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The United States of America to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Heaven 17,
Donny Hathaway,
ABC,
L. Decosne,
Harry Pussy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Judy Mowatt,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Liliput,
John Lydon,
Pere Ubu,
Pharoah Sanders,
Patti Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Skatalites,
Laurel Aitken,
Average White Band,
Popol Vuh,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Franke,
The Modern Lovers,
10cc,
Shoche,
Marine Girls,
Bronski Beat,
Young Marble Giants,
Cecil Taylor,
The Leaves,
The Zeros,
Spandau Ballet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Saints,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Animal Collective,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
48th St. Collective,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Cale,
Bill Wells,
Roxette,
cv313,
The Flesh Eaters,
Letta Mbulu,
June Days,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Archie Shepp,
Eurythmics,
Marc Almond,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Music Machine,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swans,
Minor Threat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
James White and The Blacks,
Q65,
The Cramps,
Procol Harum,
Lou Christie,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.