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 Chad and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro 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 Gerry Rafferty to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
X-101,
June of 44,
Vladislav Delay,
Terrestrial Tones,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nico,
Barbara Tucker,
Roxy Music,
Basic Channel,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gang of Four,
Minnie Riperton,
Stiv Bators,
The Remains,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Juan Atkins,
Rosa Yemen,
John Cale,
Scott Walker,
Scion,
Tropical Tobacco,
H. Thieme,
The Happenings,
Nas,
The Stooges,
Man Parrish,
T.S.O.L.,
Severed Heads,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Au Pairs,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Panda Bear,
Sixth Finger,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rites of Spring,
Skaos,
The Cowsills,
The Mummies,
The Mojo Men,
Chris & Cosey,
Eric B and Rakim,
Magazine,
The Music Machine,
Lightning Bolt,
Groovy Waters,
10cc,
Amazonics,
LL Cool J,
Faraquet,
Silicon Teens,
Minny Pops,
Qualms,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pierre Henry,
OOIOO,
X-102,
Scientists,
Mission of Burma,
Lalo Schifrin,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.