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 Sri Lanka and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Move to the crunk 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
The Modern Lovers,
Isaac Hayes,
Guru Guru,
AZ,
The New Christs,
The Real Kids,
Oneida,
Patti Smith,
The Gories,
Skaos,
Talk Talk,
Ultra Naté,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fatback Band,
Pole,
H. Thieme,
Faraquet,
Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Pus,
Ludus,
Minutemen,
T.S.O.L.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ronan,
the Sonics,
Aloha Tigers,
Zapp,
Eurythmics,
The Leaves,
a-ha,
The Smiths,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dirtbombs,
Eddi Front,
Neu!,
the Germs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Womack,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Velvet Underground,
Main Source,
Unrelated Segments,
Albert Ayler,
The Pretty Things,
The Blackbyrds,
The Fall,
Shoche,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marvin Gaye,
The Mojo Men,
Iggy Pop,
Jacques Brel,
Dave Gahan,
ABC,
New Age Steppers,
Half Japanese,
Nas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.