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 Serbia and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Starr to the funk 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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Thee Headcoats,
Ponytail,
Joe Finger,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cure,
Shuggie Otis,
Index,
The Victims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drexciya,
The Kinks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marmalade,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Smoke,
The Red Krayola,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
E-Dancer,
Aural Exciters,
Urselle,
The Moody Blues,
Agitation Free,
Moby Grape,
The Litter,
Q65,
Fad Gadget,
Harry Pussy,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Faraquet,
Monks,
Jimmy McGriff,
John Coltrane,
Gang Starr,
Sällskapet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sister Nancy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Danielle Patucci,
Warsaw,
Audionom,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rekid,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hot Snakes,
MDC,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.