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 Congo and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fear to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Smog,
Gang of Four,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Womack,
Ultra Naté,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lightning Bolt,
Schoolly D,
the Human League,
DJ Style,
Pole,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roxette,
The Dave Clark Five,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Sneak,
Gabor Szabo,
Ludus,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Sherman,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Sheep,
OOIOO,
Los Fastidios,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stockholm Monsters,
Harry Pussy,
Underground Resistance,
Yazoo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Maleditus Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Essential Logic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Procol Harum,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Byrd,
Rekid,
Mo-Dettes,
The Sonics,
Reagan Youth,
Saccharine Trust,
Dawn Penn,
The Raincoats,
Yaz,
The Doors,
Heaven 17,
JFA,
Marvin Gaye,
Blossom Toes,
Aloha Tigers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Icehouse,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Flash Fearless,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.