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 Latvia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Rapeman to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dual Sessions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Hill,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Slackers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Last Poets,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Bananas,
Dark Day,
Bronski Beat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Pus,
Scan 7,
Ronnie Foster,
Eric Copeland,
Freddie Wadling,
Animal Collective,
Wire,
Marvin Gaye,
In Retrospect,
The Saints,
Monks,
The Fire Engines,
Porter Ricks,
World's Most,
Mars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Lydon,
The Modern Lovers,
Reuben Wilson,
EPMD,
Bobby Womack,
Sun Ra,
Blancmange,
Roger Hodgson,
Nick Fraelich,
Sandy B,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bill Wells,
Amon Düül II,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sex Pistols,
Eli Mardock,
The Offenders,
The Real Kids,
Gang Gang Dance,
Marshall Jefferson,
Drive Like Jehu,
John Cale,
the Slits,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dead Boys,
Scrapy,
Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lindisfarne,
Theoretical Girls,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.