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 Estonia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Crime to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Roger Hodgson,
Alton Ellis,
Robert Wyatt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Sheep,
Robert Hood,
EPMD,
Animal Collective,
The Cowsills,
The Monks,
Sandy B,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Japan,
Nico,
The Knickerbockers,
Kurtis Blow,
Joensuu 1685,
The Slackers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Moss Icon,
Severed Heads,
The Doors,
Magma,
Y Pants,
the Bar-Kays,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Red Krayola,
The Misunderstood,
Matthew Bourne,
Parry Music,
Colin Newman,
Tubeway Army,
T. Rex,
Piero Umiliani,
Banda Bassotti,
Fugazi,
Bill Wells,
Moebius,
The Blackbyrds,
Barclay James Harvest,
Echospace,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wally Richardson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brothers Johnson,
Sarah Menescal,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slits,
Harry Pussy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lindisfarne,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers,
Smog,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rotary Connection,
Black Moon,
Lalann,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.