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 Ivory Coast and from Salvador.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Selecter to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Iggy Pop,
Bobby Byrd,
Outsiders,
Mr. Review,
The Remains,
Country Joe & The Fish,
E-Dancer,
Wasted Youth,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Invisible,
Roxette,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Zeros,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Associates,
The Moody Blues,
Royal Trux,
La Düsseldorf,
Spandau Ballet,
Second Layer,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hot Snakes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Angels of Light,
Deakin,
The Gap Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Lalann,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kurtis Blow,
The Gun Club,
Rites of Spring,
Pantytec,
Maurizio,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stetsasonic,
Graham Central Station,
Infiniti,
Rod Modell,
The Black Dice,
Von Mondo,
Vladislav Delay,
Tears for Fears,
Organ,
Tom Boy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masters at Work,
Cybotron,
The Monks,
The Cure,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang of Four,
Joe Smooth,
Amon Düül,
Moss Icon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
In Retrospect,
Basic Channel,
the Sonics,
MDC,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.