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 Bremen.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar 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 Faraquet to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Little Man,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Cosmic Jokers,
a-ha,
Roy Ayers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash,
Peter & Gordon,
Scott Walker,
Sparks,
The Gories,
Suicide,
The Cramps,
Harmonia,
Rufus Thomas,
LL Cool J,
Alison Limerick,
The Fuzztones,
Sugar Minott,
Jacob Miller,
Idris Muhammad,
Big Daddy Kane,
Babytalk,
Patti Smith,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crash Course in Science,
Yusef Lateef,
Maurizio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Popol Vuh,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kevin Saunderson,
Matthew Bourne,
Pylon,
PIL,
DJ Style,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Blake Baxter,
Todd Rundgren,
John Coltrane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Severed Heads,
Carl Craig,
Steve Hackett,
John Cale,
The Sound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Visage,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Slits,
Marvin Gaye,
Main Source,
Metal Thangz,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gil Scott Heron,
Stetsasonic,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.