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 Bangladesh and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
the Sonics,
Mantronix,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hasil Adkins,
Model 500,
Cluster,
DNA,
Average White Band,
Wally Richardson,
Audionom,
The Kinks,
the Bar-Kays,
the Swans,
Kerri Chandler,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sarah Menescal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gerry Rafferty,
Carl Craig,
Jandek,
Lou Reed,
Isaac Hayes,
Roxette,
Nico,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eurythmics,
Pantytec,
Dave Gahan,
The Raincoats,
John Lydon,
The Evens,
The Fuzztones,
Interpol,
The Doobie Brothers,
Babytalk,
The Selecter,
Fela Kuti,
The Mojo Men,
Eli Mardock,
ABC,
Fatback Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ohio Players,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Whodini,
Spoonie Gee,
Boz Scaggs,
Stetsasonic,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Bananas,
This Heat,
Henry Cow,
Kevin Saunderson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Little Man,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Cale,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.