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 Armenia and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crooked Eye to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vaughan Mason & Crew record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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?
Ten City,
The Fugs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Buzzcocks,
The Searchers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultra Naté,
Althea and Donna,
Jeff Mills,
Index,
Make Up,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Saccharine Trust,
Robert Hood,
Radio Birdman,
Scion,
Camberwell Now,
Intrusion,
Faust,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fad Gadget,
Bush Tetras,
Nik Kershaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
CMW,
Mandrill,
The Monochrome Set,
Popol Vuh,
Yazoo,
Prince Buster,
Gang of Four,
Morten Harket,
The Walker Brothers,
Boz Scaggs,
Panda Bear,
Donny Hathaway,
Whodini,
John Lydon,
Roger Hodgson,
Gang Green,
Angry Samoans,
Boredoms,
The Durutti Column,
The Techniques,
Visage,
Procol Harum,
Fatback Band,
Jacob Miller,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lindisfarne,
the Human League,
Urselle,
Brothers Johnson,
Hashim,
Essential Logic,
Subhumans,
Marine Girls,
Joe Finger,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.