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 Namibia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 Harry Pussy to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
CMW,
Althea and Donna,
The Zeros,
Theoretical Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Tom Boy,
Spandau Ballet,
Letta Mbulu,
Donald Byrd,
LL Cool J,
The Neon Judgement,
The Last Poets,
Deakin,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Association,
Yellowson,
Arab on Radar,
Laurel Aitken,
New Age Steppers,
Eli Mardock,
Inner City,
Grey Daturas,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Public Enemy,
Marmalade,
The Cramps,
Deadbeat,
Sparks,
Marc Almond,
Jacques Brel,
kango's stein massive,
Liliput,
Scrapy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alphaville,
Mars,
The Five Americans,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Sherman,
Stereo Dub,
Whodini,
Soul II Soul,
Cecil Taylor,
Arthur Verocai,
Accadde A,
Cymande,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Drexciya,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rufus Thomas,
The Velvet Underground,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bauhaus,
Niagra,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Chrome,
Rhythm & Sound,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.