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 Singapore and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Patti Smith to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Crash Course in Science,
the Soft Cell,
the Germs,
Schoolly D,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ituana,
Sound Behaviour,
Quadrant,
Supertramp,
Infiniti,
The Tremeloes,
Amon Düül,
Boredoms,
Faraquet,
The Zeros,
cv313,
Bluetip,
Agitation Free,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mo-Dettes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harry Pussy,
Max Romeo,
Howard Jones,
Joy Division,
Flipper,
Godley & Creme,
Public Image Ltd.,
DNA,
The Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
La Düsseldorf,
Aloha Tigers,
Kaleidoscope,
Davy DMX,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Masters at Work,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jeff Lynne,
T. Rex,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Almond,
Electric Prunes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roy Ayers,
Suicide,
Gabor Szabo,
Little Man,
Terry Callier,
Hashim,
Connie Case,
Bobby Byrd,
The Black Dice,
Junior Murvin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Arab on Radar,
Janne Schatter,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.