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 Nigeria and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Average White Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex 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?
Agent Orange,
Eve St. Jones,
Tim Buckley,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
R.M.O.,
Judy Mowatt,
Duran Duran,
10cc,
Ituana,
LL Cool J,
Sun City Girls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Skriet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Oblivians,
Angry Samoans,
Freddie Wadling,
Hot Snakes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nik Kershaw,
Thee Headcoats,
Intrusion,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nick Fraelich,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Erykah Badu,
Rapeman,
Cecil Taylor,
Pulsallama,
Urselle,
Piero Umiliani,
the Soft Cell,
Albert Ayler,
Lungfish,
The Gories,
Talk Talk,
The Associates,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
Q and Not U,
Khruangbin,
the Fania All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
The Toasters,
Fluxion,
Joy Division,
Mad Mike,
Todd Rundgren,
Roy Ayers,
The Buckinghams,
Sixth Finger,
Quadrant,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Detroit Cobras,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.