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 Algeria and from New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
The Wake,
The Sound,
Lyres,
Animal Collective,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Angry Samoans,
Patti Smith,
Tres Demented,
Max Romeo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Searchers,
Wally Richardson,
H. Thieme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Zero Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Alton Ellis,
Camberwell Now,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fad Gadget,
Scratch Acid,
The Leaves,
Sam Rivers,
This Heat,
Marshall Jefferson,
Skarface,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
MDC,
Whodini,
Jandek,
Peter & Gordon,
Nirvana,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Grass Roots,
Sister Nancy,
Stiv Bators,
The Gladiators,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cymande,
AZ,
Rosa Yemen,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Duran Duran,
DJ Style,
10cc,
Soft Machine,
The Litter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ohio Players,
The Durutti Column,
Pussy Galore,
Mark Hollis,
Nas,
Tubeway Army,
Black Sheep,
Wings,
Chrome,
Al Stewart,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.