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 Equatorial Guinea and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 chamberlin 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 Mad Mike to the techno 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Pussy Galore,
Scratch Acid,
Malaria!,
Saccharine Trust,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
Blake Baxter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alton Ellis,
Smog,
The Mojo Men,
Nirvana,
Wasted Youth,
Rod Modell,
Inner City,
The Dirtbombs,
The Angels of Light,
Icehouse,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Slits,
Roger Hodgson,
Thee Headcoats,
Sugar Minott,
Jimmy McGriff,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Doobie Brothers,
David Bowie,
Ultra Naté,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Beau Brummels,
Pere Ubu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Althea and Donna,
Con Funk Shun,
Donald Byrd,
Derrick Morgan,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Kerrie Biddell,
K-Klass,
The Happenings,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Masters at Work,
Al Stewart,
The Doors,
Black Sheep,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Boredoms,
Black Bananas,
Moby Grape,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Faraquet,
Davy DMX,
Yaz,
Suicide,
Amon Düül II,
Anakelly,
Mr. Review,
Rakim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.