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 Tehran.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Stetsasonic 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rod Modell,
Aswad,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Heaven 17,
Anakelly,
Freddie Wadling,
The Neon Judgement,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The American Breed,
Eden Ahbez,
Charles Mingus,
Index,
Skriet,
Derrick May,
the Slits,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Sound,
Tears for Fears,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
John Foxx,
The Stooges,
Bluetip,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Symarip,
Outsiders,
World's Most,
Minny Pops,
Spandau Ballet,
Lalann,
Icehouse,
Mr. Review,
Deepchord,
F. McDonald,
In Retrospect,
Mantronix,
Ten City,
Model 500,
Bob Dylan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Janne Schatter,
Fugazi,
Lucky Dragons,
The Knickerbockers,
Traffic Nightmare,
June of 44,
Shuggie Otis,
Stockholm Monsters,
MDC,
Howard Jones,
Drive Like Jehu,
New Age Steppers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Bananas,
Infiniti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Negative Approach,
Isaac Hayes,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.