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 Palau and from Mexico City.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 chamberlin 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 E-Dancer to the dance 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Flag,
DNA,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Livin' Joy,
the Normal,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Evens,
KRS-One,
Rites of Spring,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Neu!,
DJ Sneak,
Archie Shepp,
Porter Ricks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Dead C,
Alice Coltrane,
Ossler,
Harry Pussy,
The Selecter,
Rakim,
The Golliwogs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Trumans Water,
Blake Baxter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Quando Quango,
The Cure,
Zapp,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Almond,
Magma,
X-102,
Mars,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ken Boothe,
The Knickerbockers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rod Modell,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Nirvana,
Andrew Hill,
Circle Jerks,
Cheater Slicks,
Bush Tetras,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Dirtbombs,
Newcleus,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.