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 Uzbekistan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Bush Tetras to the electroclash 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Ultravox,
Charles Mingus,
Prince Buster,
Skaos,
One Last Wish,
The Searchers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rites of Spring,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Little Man,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Raincoats,
Tom Boy,
Supertramp,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kerri Chandler,
The Standells,
The Barracudas,
Siglo XX,
JFA,
Sparks,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
The Mummies,
Brothers Johnson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fela Kuti,
Altered Images,
Mars,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kaleidoscope,
Clear Light,
The Offenders,
Con Funk Shun,
Japan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
B.T. Express,
Adolescents,
Audionom,
Donald Byrd,
Scratch Acid,
the Soft Cell,
Sam Rivers,
Rotary Connection,
Bang On A Can,
Gregory Isaacs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Todd Rundgren,
Toni Rubio,
Aloha Tigers,
Surgeon,
Oneida,
Easy Going,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fad Gadget,
The Zeros,
KRS-One,
Minor Threat,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.