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 Maldives and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 T. Rex to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Michelle Simonal. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Au Pairs,
Pylon,
Kayak,
Brothers Johnson,
Easy Going,
The Happenings,
Unwound,
Dead Boys,
Frankie Knuckles,
Slave,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Morten Harket,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Association,
Roy Ayers,
Procol Harum,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brand Nubian,
Marine Girls,
The New Christs,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Human League,
Fad Gadget,
Quando Quango,
The Cowsills,
Dark Day,
Camberwell Now,
Mark Hollis,
Zapp,
Fatback Band,
Lindisfarne,
Moby Grape,
Ossler,
Bobby Womack,
John Foxx,
The Remains,
Motorama,
Malaria!,
Moebius,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Byrd,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Judy Mowatt,
New Age Steppers,
Cameo,
Flipper,
The Toasters,
Eric Dolphy,
Neu!,
48th St. Collective,
Interpol,
The Barracudas,
Warsaw,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.