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 Chad and from Madrid.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 48th St. Collective to the jazz 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bush Tetras,
Surgeon,
Boz Scaggs,
Buzzcocks,
The Last Poets,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kas Product,
Heaven 17,
Faust,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Foxx,
Oneida,
Technova,
Yaz,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Barracudas,
Cal Tjader,
Bobby Womack,
FM Einheit,
Livin' Joy,
The Moleskins,
Kenny Larkin,
Deepchord,
Barbara Tucker,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skarface,
Pantytec,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Blake Baxter,
The Mojo Men,
Fugazi,
Derrick May,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Grauzone,
Fat Boys,
Nils Olav,
Excepter,
Zero Boys,
New York Dolls,
The Monochrome Set,
Alice Coltrane,
R.M.O.,
The Pretty Things,
Public Enemy,
Ice-T,
The Durutti Column,
Tubeway Army,
The Neon Judgement,
Make Up,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Seeds,
The Sonics,
The Slits,
Reagan Youth,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.