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 Sri Lanka and from Seoul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pere Ubu to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Moleskins,
The Pop Group,
Khruangbin,
Scientists,
Pharoah Sanders,
Los Fastidios,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Golliwogs,
Half Japanese,
Jeff Lynne,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Fuzztones,
Moby Grape,
Barbara Tucker,
Alton Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
The Fortunes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Drexciya,
Erasure,
The Searchers,
Black Bananas,
Chrome,
Wasted Youth,
Jeff Mills,
Whodini,
Tim Buckley,
Yaz,
Agitation Free,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Crooked Eye,
Tommy Roe,
Soul II Soul,
The Toasters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Charles Mingus,
The Evens,
Bang On A Can,
Electric Prunes,
The Raincoats,
The Barracudas,
David Bowie,
Animal Collective,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed,
Trumans Water,
Oblivians,
Laurel Aitken,
The Last Poets,
Echospace,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cramps,
Funky Four + One,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Pretty Things,
Infiniti,
The Happenings,
Todd Terry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lucky Dragons,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.