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 Zimbabwe and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Seoul.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Fear to the crunk 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
JFA,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Aloha Tigers,
Swell Maps,
Kaleidoscope,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fuzztones,
Brass Construction,
The Happenings,
Barbara Tucker,
The Dead C,
Mantronix,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
David McCallum,
Popol Vuh,
T. Rex,
Tomorrow,
D'Angelo,
Nas,
the Association,
Alice Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
Matthew Halsall,
Saccharine Trust,
Sandy B,
Freddie Wadling,
Todd Terry,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Modern Lovers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Amazonics,
Man Parrish,
Blancmange,
Barclay James Harvest,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Birthday Party,
Bobby Byrd,
Lower 48,
The Gladiators,
Kayak,
Rapeman,
The Mojo Men,
Robert Görl,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ituana,
The Velvet Underground,
Ludus,
Charles Mingus,
Aural Exciters,
Parry Music,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra,
The United States of America,
Glambeats Corp.,
Toni Rubio,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.