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 Turkmenistan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barrington Levy 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
T.S.O.L.,
Crooked Eye,
Parry Music,
The Skatalites,
Urselle,
Rekid,
Eurythmics,
The Invisible,
Symarip,
Pylon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Count Five,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Negative Approach,
Morten Harket,
Alice Coltrane,
The Leaves,
The Cowsills,
Brass Construction,
Carl Craig,
the Sonics,
Ituana,
the Slits,
K-Klass,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fire Engines,
Cameo,
Barrington Levy,
Hashim,
Toni Rubio,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sparks,
Loose Ends,
Amazonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Matthew Halsall,
Magazine,
Maleditus Sound,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ten City,
The Stooges,
Electric Prunes,
Kaleidoscope,
Camouflage,
Gong,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Panda Bear,
David McCallum,
Rosa Yemen,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Niagra,
DNA,
Neil Young,
Dennis Brown,
H. Thieme,
In Retrospect,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.