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 Hungary and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 ABC to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dark Day,
Aural Exciters,
Porter Ricks,
Quantec,
June of 44,
Technova,
Wolf Eyes,
Interpol,
Tom Boy,
Tomorrow,
the Bar-Kays,
Rekid,
Mantronix,
Black Bananas,
Mandrill,
Zapp,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
Soul II Soul,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Fall,
Drexciya,
Schoolly D,
Maurizio,
Jeff Mills,
B.T. Express,
The Index,
Brick,
The Walker Brothers,
Depeche Mode,
Colin Newman,
The Gap Band,
The Residents,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Names,
Surgeon,
Lou Reed,
Al Stewart,
K-Klass,
The United States of America,
The Angels of Light,
Lebanon Hanover,
Saccharine Trust,
Rotary Connection,
Japan,
Camberwell Now,
Harry Pussy,
Second Layer,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Khruangbin,
D'Angelo,
Ultra Naté,
KRS-One,
Subhumans,
Loose Ends,
Underground Resistance,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.