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 Albania and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the punk 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Black Moon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Icehouse,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bush Tetras,
The Leaves,
John Cale,
Nico,
Fear,
Man Eating Sloth,
Depeche Mode,
The Names,
Los Fastidios,
Tim Buckley,
Slave,
Sugar Minott,
The Trojans,
The Beau Brummels,
X-102,
Chrome,
Black Flag,
Gichy Dan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June of 44,
The Birthday Party,
Pulsallama,
Ituana,
The Dirtbombs,
Colin Newman,
Crime,
The Skatalites,
Nirvana,
Johnny Clarke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Adolescents,
Buzzcocks,
the Soft Cell,
kango's stein massive,
the Human League,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jacob Miller,
Scott Walker,
Sister Nancy,
Robert Wyatt,
Monks,
Ossler,
Scan 7,
Country Teasers,
Section 25,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ice-T,
Skarface,
The Last Poets,
Bang On A Can,
Blake Baxter,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Schoolly D,
Ten City,
Tommy Roe,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.