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 Madagascar 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar 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 Theoretical Girls to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
the Germs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
LL Cool J,
Davy DMX,
Eddi Front,
Lalann,
Barrington Levy,
Matthew Bourne,
Minutemen,
The Gories,
Mary Jane Girls,
Minny Pops,
Gichy Dan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ice-T,
Lebanon Hanover,
Monolake,
Quando Quango,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Real Kids,
Jandek,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crooked Eye,
New Order,
a-ha,
Letta Mbulu,
Public Enemy,
Smog,
Danielle Patucci,
The Martian,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sound Behaviour,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mars,
Blossom Toes,
Ituana,
Sister Nancy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
MDC,
Cameo,
Rakim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Outsiders,
E-Dancer,
The Five Americans,
A Certain Ratio,
Deepchord,
The Standells,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Association,
The Sonics,
Hasil Adkins,
Bauhaus,
Half Japanese,
Qualms,
The Fire Engines,
Theoretical Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Sonic Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.