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 Angola and from Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Modern Lovers to the grime 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Altered Images,
Talk Talk,
The Music Machine,
Rakim,
Jandek,
F. McDonald,
The Fire Engines,
Harry Pussy,
Rosa Yemen,
The Walker Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
John Holt,
LL Cool J,
Brick,
Lalann,
John Lydon,
Aswad,
New Order,
Boredoms,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sonics,
The New Christs,
Crime,
Roy Ayers,
Soul II Soul,
Scion,
Ultra Naté,
Duran Duran,
Cymande,
Boogie Down Productions,
X-Ray Spex,
Deadbeat,
Drexciya,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ludus,
Inner City,
John Coltrane,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Slits,
The Cramps,
The Kinks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Clear Light,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Das Ding,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nik Kershaw,
Animal Collective,
The Offenders,
Icehouse,
Neu!,
Outsiders,
Lalo Schifrin,
Massinfluence,
The Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.