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 Australia and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Make Up to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Desert Stars,
Agent Orange,
In Retrospect,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
KRS-One,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roxy Music,
The Birthday Party,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eden Ahbez,
Charles Mingus,
Sun Ra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Sonics,
Connie Case,
The American Breed,
Jacob Miller,
Circle Jerks,
Mo-Dettes,
ABBA,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jacques Brel,
Guru Guru,
Dave Gahan,
The Beau Brummels,
Spandau Ballet,
These Immortal Souls,
Marvin Gaye,
JFA,
F. McDonald,
Arthur Verocai,
Ronnie Foster,
Crooked Eye,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Leaves,
Graham Central Station,
the Association,
Tim Buckley,
Nick Fraelich,
The Trojans,
The Moleskins,
Barry Ungar,
Goldenarms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joyce Sims,
John Holt,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bill Near,
U.S. Maple,
The Seeds,
The Doobie Brothers,
Minny Pops,
Pulsallama,
Con Funk Shun,
Kool Moe Dee,
Maurizio,
Patti Smith,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.