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 Nauru and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Hot Snakes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Derrick Morgan,
Swell Maps,
Massinfluence,
Bauhaus,
Dave Gahan,
Sam Rivers,
Lungfish,
Lou Reed,
Cheater Slicks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Erasure,
Desert Stars,
The Seeds,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Minutemen,
R.M.O.,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Motions,
Pierre Henry,
Joensuu 1685,
Bad Manners,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dennis Brown,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Traffic Nightmare,
L. Decosne,
Niagra,
John Coltrane,
a-ha,
Popol Vuh,
John Cale,
Archie Shepp,
Unwound,
Henry Cow,
Excepter,
New Age Steppers,
Donald Byrd,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Easy Going,
Au Pairs,
The Pretty Things,
LL Cool J,
ABBA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Zero Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
KRS-One,
Boogie Down Productions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
David Axelrod,
The Music Machine,
Erykah Badu,
One Last Wish,
John Holt,
Tubeway Army,
World's Most,
The Young Rascals,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.