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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Last Poets to the rap 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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Music Machine,
Soft Cell,
Quantec,
Ken Boothe,
Pet Shop Boys,
Simply Red,
Reuben Wilson,
Index,
Procol Harum,
Archie Shepp,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Radiohead,
Amazonics,
X-101,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Saints,
Mad Mike,
ABBA,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
Stereo Dub,
The Leaves,
Dennis Brown,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crime,
Model 500,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Surgeon,
Nas,
The Human League,
Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Smiths,
Von Mondo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
These Immortal Souls,
Outsiders,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scott Walker,
X-Ray Spex,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grauzone,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Human League,
Flash Fearless,
The Misunderstood,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smoke,
Cheater Slicks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Buckinghams,
Zero Boys,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sandy B,
Kevin Saunderson,
Average White Band,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.