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 Sierra Leone and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the disco 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Warsaw,
Erykah Badu,
Marvin Gaye,
The Vogues,
Man Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Rosa Yemen,
Aloha Tigers,
The Standells,
Unwound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barbara Tucker,
June Days,
Blancmange,
The Residents,
10cc,
Tropical Tobacco,
Anakelly,
Dorothy Ashby,
Reuben Wilson,
the Soft Cell,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Black Dice,
Brick,
Electric Prunes,
Adolescents,
The Leaves,
The Music Machine,
Echospace,
DJ Style,
The Tremeloes,
Alice Coltrane,
DNA,
Henry Cow,
Bobby Hutcherson,
New York Dolls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Schoolly D,
Severed Heads,
David Axelrod,
The Stooges,
Ken Boothe,
Clear Light,
Pussy Galore,
Stetsasonic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Intrusion,
Charles Mingus,
Trumans Water,
Monolake,
Mantronix,
The Birthday Party,
Sandy B,
Vladislav Delay,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sun Ra,
The United States of America,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Christie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.