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 France and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Searchers to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
The Gun Club,
Fad Gadget,
The Electric Prunes,
Alice Coltrane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Intrusion,
The Evens,
Pole,
Blossom Toes,
L. Decosne,
Duran Duran,
Thompson Twins,
K-Klass,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gichy Dan,
The Durutti Column,
Audionom,
The Blues Magoos,
D'Angelo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Warsaw,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
UT,
Black Sheep,
Jacob Miller,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Remains,
Lower 48,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Spandau Ballet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Q65,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Colin Newman,
Lightning Bolt,
The Raincoats,
The United States of America,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blake Baxter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Crash Course in Science,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nick Fraelich,
Sight & Sound,
Massinfluence,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Janne Schatter,
Carl Craig,
Q and Not U,
Deepchord,
The Skatalites,
Groovy Waters,
Dual Sessions,
Laurel Aitken,
Second Layer,
New Order,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.