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 Angola and from Accra.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fatback Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Rites of Spring,
The Litter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wire,
Soft Machine,
JFA,
Robert Hood,
Excepter,
The Blues Magoos,
Shoche,
Brand Nubian,
Yusef Lateef,
Hot Snakes,
The Electric Prunes,
Porter Ricks,
The Happenings,
Bobby Womack,
Eddi Front,
Sugar Minott,
Kerrie Biddell,
China Crisis,
a-ha,
Television,
Nation of Ulysses,
The United States of America,
Negative Approach,
Dave Gahan,
DNA,
Organ,
Sonic Youth,
The Human League,
Pere Ubu,
L. Decosne,
The Real Kids,
The Toasters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Robert Wyatt,
Mr. Review,
Mad Mike,
Bizarre Inc.,
New Order,
Cal Tjader,
Black Bananas,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Sonics,
R.M.O.,
Quantec,
Angry Samoans,
Model 500,
Soft Cell,
Bad Manners,
Kaleidoscope,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radiohead,
Das Ding,
Second Layer,
the Association,
Bootsy Collins,
The Seeds,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.