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 Korea South and from Madrid.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin 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 Flipper to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Terry Callier,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Erasure,
Maurizio,
Mr. Review,
Mo-Dettes,
X-101,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ossler,
Television,
MDC,
Trumans Water,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crispian St. Peters,
Groovy Waters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Durutti Column,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Parry Music,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Graham Central Station,
The Young Rascals,
Main Source,
Albert Ayler,
The Names,
Hardrive,
OOIOO,
The Martian,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Iggy Pop,
These Immortal Souls,
Reuben Wilson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Model 500,
The Remains,
Shoche,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cure,
David Bowie,
Radio Birdman,
Young Marble Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Sugar Minott,
The Saints,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Drexciya,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Star Department,
Essential Logic,
Youth Brigade,
Joe Finger,
Roxy Music,
The Pop Group,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.