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 Argentina and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 organ 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 Henry Cow to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed,
Fat Boys,
Thompson Twins,
The Divine Comedy,
Mission of Burma,
Mary Jane Girls,
Derrick May,
Desert Stars,
Masters at Work,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Bar-Kays,
Barrington Levy,
Anakelly,
the Human League,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crooked Eye,
Niagra,
MC5,
Main Source,
Panda Bear,
Gastr Del Sol,
Arcadia,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Con Funk Shun,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Moon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Simply Red,
June of 44,
Wally Richardson,
The Cure,
Make Up,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flash Fearless,
Roger Hodgson,
Darondo,
Nation of Ulysses,
H. Thieme,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Names,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Birthday Party,
The Happenings,
Glambeats Corp.,
Anthony Braxton,
Schoolly D,
Ultravox,
Roy Ayers,
Lyres,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pole,
Black Pus,
10cc,
Oneida,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Visage,
Ornette Coleman,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.