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 Costa Rica and from Delhi.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Sherman to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
The Dead C,
Slave,
Davy DMX,
Jerry's Kids,
The Human League,
Delon & Dalcan,
Man Parrish,
Procol Harum,
8 Eyed Spy,
This Heat,
Groovy Waters,
Magazine,
Mission of Burma,
The Star Department,
Funkadelic,
B.T. Express,
Black Pus,
Danielle Patucci,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Toasters,
Ronan,
Q and Not U,
Jacob Miller,
The Blues Magoos,
Suburban Knight,
The Moleskins,
Darondo,
The Martian,
Excepter,
Sister Nancy,
Rosa Yemen,
Khruangbin,
Symarip,
Sonny Sharrock,
Whodini,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
James White and The Blacks,
Basic Channel,
Skriet,
Al Stewart,
Nirvana,
Fad Gadget,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pulsallama,
Sarah Menescal,
The Music Machine,
Scrapy,
the Association,
Scientists,
Nik Kershaw,
Sun Ra,
Brothers Johnson,
The Golliwogs,
Sixth Finger,
Dennis Brown,
Tom Boy,
Funky Four + One,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeff Lynne,
Boredoms,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.