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 Uganda and from Sao Paulo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Mars to the disco 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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
48th St. Collective,
The Raincoats,
The Searchers,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joe Finger,
Audionom,
Gichy Dan,
Scratch Acid,
Soul II Soul,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sandy B,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alison Limerick,
Carl Craig,
Black Moon,
Gang Starr,
Mars,
Saccharine Trust,
Man Eating Sloth,
Essential Logic,
Dennis Brown,
cv313,
Tom Boy,
the Normal,
Joy Division,
the Swans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Subhumans,
Siglo XX,
Royal Trux,
Joey Negro,
Lalann,
Fatback Band,
Soft Machine,
Brothers Johnson,
Delta 5,
Sällskapet,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cheater Slicks,
Pagans,
Archie Shepp,
The Blues Magoos,
EPMD,
Basic Channel,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bush Tetras,
The American Breed,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Smoke,
Eric Copeland,
Ultra Naté,
Flipper,
Von Mondo,
Vladislav Delay,
Mary Jane Girls,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.