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 Azerbaijan and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Scion to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
the Sonics,
Colin Newman,
Simply Red,
Neu!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Q and Not U,
Ken Boothe,
Neil Young,
The Pretty Things,
Unwound,
The Modern Lovers,
Charles Mingus,
Althea and Donna,
Danielle Patucci,
Drexciya,
Archie Shepp,
Barry Ungar,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Evens,
Sight & Sound,
The Saints,
Nirvana,
Dennis Brown,
Yaz,
Roy Ayers,
Nas,
Main Source,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wolf Eyes,
Wally Richardson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Anakelly,
China Crisis,
Barrington Levy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Niagra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scion,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alice Coltrane,
Index,
Jeff Mills,
Dawn Penn,
Rapeman,
Von Mondo,
Jawbox,
Scott Walker,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sly & The Family Stone,
LL Cool J,
Magma,
Fat Boys,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
Essential Logic,
The Pop Group,
the Slits,
L. Decosne,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marine Girls,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.