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 Costa Rica and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 June of 44 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neu!,
The Grass Roots,
Deakin,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gabor Szabo,
Junior Murvin,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scott Walker,
Sixth Finger,
Cal Tjader,
Sam Rivers,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Unrelated Segments,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crispy Ambulance,
Electric Prunes,
Cluster,
Mr. Review,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marvin Gaye,
Susan Cadogan,
Todd Terry,
Sparks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Brothers Johnson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Techniques,
Peter and Kerry,
Mantronix,
Sun City Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fortunes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
Rufus Thomas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Glenn Branca,
Aaron Thompson,
Blancmange,
Metal Thangz,
The Wake,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Ten City,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Johnny Clarke,
DJ Sneak,
Erasure,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Golliwogs,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.