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 Mongolia and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Letta Mbulu to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joyce Sims,
Lakeside,
Cecil Taylor,
The Monochrome Set,
X-101,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Wake,
The Doors,
The Fuzztones,
Carl Craig,
Nick Fraelich,
Fat Boys,
Newcleus,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rites of Spring,
Scratch Acid,
Aaron Thompson,
the Normal,
Janne Schatter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Guru Guru,
Sister Nancy,
Lyres,
Can,
Gastr Del Sol,
Suicide,
Scrapy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Heaven 17,
Sugar Minott,
the Bar-Kays,
Kayak,
The Durutti Column,
Lou Reed,
Anthony Braxton,
Harry Pussy,
Spandau Ballet,
The New Christs,
Accadde A,
Jandek,
Smog,
Todd Rundgren,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Franke,
Amazonics,
Alton Ellis,
The Neon Judgement,
Alphaville,
Al Stewart,
The Toasters,
The Residents,
Lungfish,
Skriet,
Tubeway Army,
Danielle Patucci,
Minor Threat,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
James White and The Blacks,
Ronnie Foster,
Schoolly D,
Man Parrish,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.