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 Laos and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Hot Snakes,
Whodini,
CMW,
F. McDonald,
Joe Finger,
Oblivians,
Toni Rubio,
the Sonics,
Brass Construction,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rakim,
Gang of Four,
Icehouse,
Magazine,
Scott Walker,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wasted Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harmonia,
Eric B and Rakim,
Underground Resistance,
Alison Limerick,
Gil Scott Heron,
Connie Case,
Rotary Connection,
Gastr Del Sol,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ronnie Foster,
Crooked Eye,
Pulsallama,
Quadrant,
Porter Ricks,
Supertramp,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Names,
Freddie Wadling,
Yazoo,
The Cramps,
Deakin,
Josef K,
The Fuzztones,
Eurythmics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Knickerbockers,
Alphaville,
Goldenarms,
Trumans Water,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ken Boothe,
Q65,
Sällskapet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Con Funk Shun,
Siglo XX,
Black Flag,
the Normal,
Kas Product,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.