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 Congo 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cheater Slicks,
Porter Ricks,
Section 25,
The Searchers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Blackbyrds,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ronnie Foster,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultravox,
Nils Olav,
Subhumans,
T. Rex,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dead C,
Parry Music,
Wire,
Albert Ayler,
Los Fastidios,
Wolf Eyes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Last Poets,
Faust,
Lou Reed,
Drexciya,
Nirvana,
Guru Guru,
Smog,
AZ,
48th St. Collective,
Scion,
Yaz,
The Slits,
Colin Newman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Banda Bassotti,
Television Personalities,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sandy B,
Pagans,
Sparks,
The Saints,
Matthew Bourne,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Boredoms,
Echospace,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Detroit Cobras,
Reagan Youth,
Organ,
Gichy Dan,
Howard Jones,
Scan 7,
Charles Mingus,
Peter & Gordon,
Slick Rick,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sound,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Golliwogs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.