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 Kenya and from Jakarta.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bobby Byrd to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
H. Thieme,
Fela Kuti,
Con Funk Shun,
U.S. Maple,
The Move,
The Monks,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lyres,
Howard Jones,
Faust,
The American Breed,
New Order,
Suicide,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Juan Atkins,
Blossom Toes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-Ray Spex,
JFA,
Dennis Brown,
The Standells,
Joe Smooth,
Toni Rubio,
Idris Muhammad,
Q and Not U,
Althea and Donna,
Can,
The Last Poets,
Yaz,
The Young Rascals,
Boz Scaggs,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mantronix,
Anakelly,
Fluxion,
Vladislav Delay,
Warsaw,
Grey Daturas,
X-101,
Joensuu 1685,
Boogie Down Productions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mo-Dettes,
Massinfluence,
Andrew Hill,
Tim Buckley,
Jeru the Damaja,
Siglo XX,
Camouflage,
the Swans,
Eddi Front,
Marc Almond,
Bush Tetras,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Masters at Work,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.