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 Brunei and from Stockholm.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Flesh Eaters to the dance 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
Harmonia,
Bush Tetras,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Near,
The New Christs,
The Martian,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Yusef Lateef,
Rotary Connection,
Rekid,
Bobby Byrd,
Nico,
the Soft Cell,
UT,
Derrick Morgan,
Ice-T,
The Knickerbockers,
Leonard Cohen,
Crispy Ambulance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
David McCallum,
The Pretty Things,
The Victims,
Lightning Bolt,
Minutemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
La Düsseldorf,
Danielle Patucci,
Anthony Braxton,
Gichy Dan,
Joe Finger,
Marine Girls,
Mad Mike,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pylon,
Little Man,
Sun City Girls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Animal Collective,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeff Mills,
The Music Machine,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wolf Eyes,
Altered Images,
Gabor Szabo,
Letta Mbulu,
Monks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Juan Atkins,
The Tremeloes,
Black Bananas,
The Slackers,
Matthew Bourne,
Livin' Joy,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.