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 Djibouti and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Excepter to the techno 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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Animal Collective,
Minutemen,
Flipper,
Eddi Front,
Soft Cell,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Schoolly D,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Essential Logic,
Todd Terry,
Ponytail,
John Holt,
Sam Rivers,
Malaria!,
Sex Pistols,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DNA,
Nico,
Toni Rubio,
Yazoo,
Marmalade,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dave Gahan,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
The Litter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Junior Murvin,
Make Up,
Blossom Toes,
The Golliwogs,
Black Flag,
Ludus,
Public Enemy,
The Pop Group,
The Motions,
Hashim,
Swans,
Moebius,
Mr. Review,
Stereo Dub,
Kerri Chandler,
Morten Harket,
The Seeds,
Theoretical Girls,
Echospace,
Joe Smooth,
David Axelrod,
Severed Heads,
The Moody Blues,
Slave,
The Leaves,
Johnny Clarke,
Stiv Bators,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Charles Mingus,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.