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 Afghanistan and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord 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 Lungfish to the rock 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aswad,
The Dave Clark Five,
The New Christs,
Don Cherry,
The Doors,
Bizarre Inc.,
Thee Headcoats,
New Order,
John Coltrane,
Scratch Acid,
MC5,
These Immortal Souls,
Gang Starr,
Nils Olav,
Whodini,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Derrick May,
New Age Steppers,
Blake Baxter,
Aural Exciters,
Vladislav Delay,
Country Teasers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Con Funk Shun,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jandek,
Bush Tetras,
Robert Wyatt,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
China Crisis,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
The Cramps,
Toni Rubio,
The Gun Club,
Cameo,
In Retrospect,
Newcleus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Sheep,
Peter & Gordon,
Joensuu 1685,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
New York Dolls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Livin' Joy,
The Real Kids,
Clear Light,
One Last Wish,
Lakeside,
Camberwell Now,
The Buckinghams,
The Leaves,
The Fall,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.