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 Lesotho and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Womack to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Monks,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Angels of Light,
Absolute Body Control,
Barbara Tucker,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Standells,
Blancmange,
Rhythm & Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Jesper Dahlback,
These Immortal Souls,
Derrick May,
Donny Hathaway,
Scientists,
This Heat,
Von Mondo,
The Move,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Toasters,
Ten City,
Little Man,
Harry Pussy,
Grey Daturas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nas,
Lindisfarne,
Moebius,
Aaron Thompson,
MDC,
Chris Corsano,
Anakelly,
Motorama,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angry Samoans,
Symarip,
New York Dolls,
Arab on Radar,
Depeche Mode,
Can,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Modern Lovers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Underground Resistance,
Shuggie Otis,
Mandrill,
Moby Grape,
Boredoms,
The Misunderstood,
The United States of America,
The Slackers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scion,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Sherman,
Laurel Aitken,
Bluetip,
Pagans,
X-102,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.