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 Belize and from Bremen.
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 Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer 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 Blake Baxter to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Little Man,
Sister Nancy,
Joe Finger,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Skriet,
Zapp,
Eric Copeland,
The Seeds,
Ten City,
Lungfish,
Ultimate Spinach,
JFA,
Max Romeo,
World's Most,
Mad Mike,
The Smoke,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Near,
The Residents,
the Soft Cell,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Massinfluence,
the Bar-Kays,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Alton Ellis,
The Pop Group,
The Evens,
Kayak,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Magazine,
MDC,
David Axelrod,
Y Pants,
Grauzone,
The Dave Clark Five,
John Foxx,
Q65,
The Fortunes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eddi Front,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang of Four,
Alice Coltrane,
Adolescents,
Roy Ayers,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra,
Sarah Menescal,
Scan 7,
The Raincoats,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Neil Young,
Absolute Body Control,
The Electric Prunes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.