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 Kuwait and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Amon Düül II to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jacques Brel,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Michelle Simonal,
The Shadows of Knight,
Letta Mbulu,
Aswad,
A Certain Ratio,
Ken Boothe,
Yusef Lateef,
Lyres,
Erasure,
D'Angelo,
Alice Coltrane,
Index,
Scott Walker,
Joe Finger,
New Order,
Half Japanese,
Cluster,
The Pretty Things,
Loose Ends,
Simply Red,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Slave,
Young Marble Giants,
L. Decosne,
The Golliwogs,
Sound Behaviour,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
June Days,
Procol Harum,
The Slackers,
Danielle Patucci,
Kenny Larkin,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Outsiders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Niagra,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fat Boys,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lucky Dragons,
The Star Department,
H. Thieme,
Bootsy Collins,
Stiv Bators,
Lakeside,
Negative Approach,
Lindisfarne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rotary Connection,
Hardrive,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Byrd,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.