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 Lebanon and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator 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 The Divine Comedy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Aswad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Subhumans,
Man Parrish,
Motorama,
Kool Moe Dee,
La Düsseldorf,
Robert Wyatt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Harry Pussy,
Pylon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Vladislav Delay,
Rites of Spring,
Warsaw,
The Searchers,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Christie,
The Selecter,
the Slits,
Jimmy McGriff,
Alphaville,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
B.T. Express,
Scott Walker,
Grauzone,
Ken Boothe,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Angels of Light,
Thee Headcoats,
Massinfluence,
Mad Mike,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
LL Cool J,
Letta Mbulu,
Agent Orange,
Ultra Naté,
Swans,
Schoolly D,
Mo-Dettes,
Althea and Donna,
The Last Poets,
Franke,
Japan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers,
The Dead C,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultravox,
The Litter,
Q and Not U,
UT,
Leonard Cohen,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sunsets and Hearts,
8 Eyed Spy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Barracudas,
Arthur Verocai,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.