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 Solomon Islands and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum 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 Eden Ahbez to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Simply Red,
Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
John Holt,
Nik Kershaw,
This Heat,
Jeff Lynne,
Ohio Players,
Crispy Ambulance,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Derrick May,
Ten City,
Gabor Szabo,
Colin Newman,
Sex Pistols,
X-Ray Spex,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soft Machine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Maurizio,
Dead Boys,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Patti Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Charles Mingus,
The Cowsills,
Scrapy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Alarm Clocks,
New York Dolls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Black Pus,
The Zeros,
Sugar Minott,
Pantytec,
Lalann,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Theoretical Girls,
Drexciya,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glenn Branca,
Tomorrow,
Dual Sessions,
Porter Ricks,
Moebius,
Scratch Acid,
Adolescents,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jandek,
Fatback Band,
Popol Vuh,
The Sound,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.