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 Japan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Toni Rubio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
The Names,
Severed Heads,
Robert Hood,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Aloha Tigers,
Prince Buster,
Derrick Morgan,
Tom Boy,
Albert Ayler,
Zapp,
Nils Olav,
Sun City Girls,
The Standells,
the Human League,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stereo Dub,
Marmalade,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultra Naté,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sandy B,
Monolake,
Con Funk Shun,
The Victims,
Eve St. Jones,
Saccharine Trust,
The Mummies,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
New York Dolls,
DJ Style,
JFA,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Erykah Badu,
Stiv Bators,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blancmange,
Ornette Coleman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funkadelic,
DNA,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lee Hazlewood,
Michelle Simonal,
Nirvana,
Bluetip,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Starr,
Fugazi,
Desert Stars,
The Birthday Party,
Anakelly,
Cecil Taylor,
The Modern Lovers,
Pierre Henry,
Pylon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
ABC,
Joensuu 1685,
Toni Rubio,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.