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 Panama and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Infiniti to the punk 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bootsy Collins,
MDC,
The Gories,
Harpers Bizarre,
June of 44,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Martian,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thee Headcoats,
Rufus Thomas,
Althea and Donna,
Model 500,
Lyres,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jawbox,
Talk Talk,
Blancmange,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Iggy Pop,
Blake Baxter,
Lou Reed,
Brand Nubian,
Surgeon,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Association,
Bronski Beat,
The Real Kids,
Scan 7,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alton Ellis,
Fear,
Y Pants,
Tomorrow,
Nils Olav,
Agitation Free,
The Moody Blues,
Fort Wilson Riot,
A Certain Ratio,
Magazine,
The Star Department,
Chris Corsano,
Fad Gadget,
Bush Tetras,
Andrew Hill,
Minnie Riperton,
Aural Exciters,
Simply Red,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kas Product,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ultra Naté,
AZ,
Rapeman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Darondo,
Sugar Minott,
The Residents,
Young Marble Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.