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 Korea North 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Junior Murvin to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Smoke,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Depeche Mode,
Cal Tjader,
Outsiders,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Danielle Patucci,
Swans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Circle Jerks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Smiths,
Brand Nubian,
a-ha,
Leonard Cohen,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rod Modell,
The Invisible,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Popol Vuh,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
Gang Green,
Nirvana,
Livin' Joy,
cv313,
Black Pus,
Stereo Dub,
Eric B and Rakim,
Peter and Kerry,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Motions,
Toni Rubio,
Babytalk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nils Olav,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Amon Düül,
Traffic Nightmare,
Reuben Wilson,
Youth Brigade,
Marc Almond,
Don Cherry,
Gang Starr,
Groovy Waters,
Archie Shepp,
Suicide,
The Remains,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
Ten City,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soul II Soul,
Animal Collective,
Rapeman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Second Layer,
Young Marble Giants,
Iggy Pop,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.