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 United States and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Milan and Bologna.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Godley & Creme to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultravox,
Pussy Galore,
These Immortal Souls,
The Blues Magoos,
Y Pants,
Aaron Thompson,
The Young Rascals,
Sister Nancy,
Jeff Mills,
the Slits,
Cal Tjader,
DJ Style,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ronnie Foster,
Juan Atkins,
Sällskapet,
New York Dolls,
Black Flag,
DNA,
Henry Cow,
Josef K,
The Names,
Wally Richardson,
Monks,
Scientists,
The Durutti Column,
PIL,
Duran Duran,
Minny Pops,
Danielle Patucci,
Absolute Body Control,
Minutemen,
R.M.O.,
Delta 5,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fuzztones,
the Soft Cell,
The Sonics,
Brand Nubian,
Sun Ra,
Toni Rubio,
Buzzcocks,
Popol Vuh,
The Residents,
John Holt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Marmalade,
Sonny Sharrock,
Slave,
Oblivians,
Gichy Dan,
Panda Bear,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Trumans Water,
The Walker Brothers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slackers,
Los Fastidios,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.