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 China and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gerry Rafferty to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Fortunes,
Arcadia,
The American Breed,
Procol Harum,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New Age Steppers,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Hutcherson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Urselle,
Tommy Roe,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
X-101,
Mad Mike,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Joe Smooth,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crime,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Last Poets,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hardrive,
Visage,
Mr. Review,
Todd Terry,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Mojo Men,
Wally Richardson,
Spandau Ballet,
Absolute Body Control,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stereo Dub,
Pulsallama,
Technova,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Aswad,
Vainqueur,
Nation of Ulysses,
Inner City,
Parry Music,
Michelle Simonal,
The Remains,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
Loose Ends,
The Knickerbockers,
The Zeros,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Pretty Things,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Names,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Junior Murvin,
Marmalade,
Cameo,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.