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 Netherlands and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rock 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Bad Manners,
Saccharine Trust,
Sexual Harrassment,
DJ Sneak,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mars,
Absolute Body Control,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ohio Players,
Spoonie Gee,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Prince Buster,
The Saints,
Los Fastidios,
Neu!,
Boredoms,
The Five Americans,
Brick,
Trumans Water,
Graham Central Station,
World's Most,
Vainqueur,
B.T. Express,
Jawbox,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
La Düsseldorf,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wasted Youth,
Gastr Del Sol,
Zapp,
Byron Stingily,
Dennis Brown,
Swans,
Scratch Acid,
The Selecter,
K-Klass,
Electric Prunes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fela Kuti,
Albert Ayler,
Connie Case,
Nico,
Bobby Sherman,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Motions,
LL Cool J,
Moss Icon,
Andrew Hill,
Dark Day,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marc Almond,
EPMD,
Gang Starr,
Second Layer,
Y Pants,
Stiv Bators,
The Names,
Ken Boothe,
Todd Rundgren,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.