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 Luxembourg and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Graham Central Station to the jazz 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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash 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 synthesizer and a linndrum 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 harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Martian,
T.S.O.L.,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pulsallama,
Todd Terry,
Sugar Minott,
Ralphi Rosario,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hardrive,
The Electric Prunes,
Motorama,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kurtis Blow,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultra Naté,
The Misunderstood,
Reagan Youth,
Mo-Dettes,
Harmonia,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Associates,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Victims,
The Real Kids,
The Invisible,
Bauhaus,
Davy DMX,
Fugazi,
Erykah Badu,
The Slackers,
cv313,
Andrew Hill,
Morten Harket,
Stetsasonic,
Toni Rubio,
Danielle Patucci,
ABC,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DNA,
Cymande,
The Zeros,
The Sonics,
The Searchers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Franke,
Chris & Cosey,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Electric Prunes,
K-Klass,
Brand Nubian,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soul II Soul,
Metal Thangz,
Charles Mingus,
Loose Ends,
Joe Finger,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roxy Music,
Alison Limerick,
The Names,
Arab on Radar,
Black Moon,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.