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 Djibouti and from Seoul.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Pus to the punk 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Harmonia,
Colin Newman,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gun Club,
PIL,
The Remains,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fluxion,
Man Parrish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
OOIOO,
Average White Band,
Dual Sessions,
Talk Talk,
H. Thieme,
Yaz,
Ohio Players,
Jeff Mills,
Liliput,
Lightning Bolt,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gap Band,
Robert Görl,
The Pop Group,
Harpers Bizarre,
Grandmaster Flash,
Maurizio,
The Monochrome Set,
Sexual Harrassment,
R.M.O.,
Magazine,
The Knickerbockers,
Khruangbin,
Amon Düül II,
Godley & Creme,
Ossler,
The Blues Magoos,
Neil Young,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kenny Larkin,
The Moody Blues,
Can,
John Cale,
The Names,
Main Source,
Marcia Griffiths,
Terry Callier,
Ralphi Rosario,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Motorama,
Joe Finger,
Q and Not U,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Groovy Waters,
Pussy Galore,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Sheep,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.