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 Algeria and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Agent Orange 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funkadelic,
Harmonia,
Alphaville,
Pantaleimon,
Wings,
MDC,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Camouflage,
Gabor Szabo,
The Doors,
Ultravox,
Stetsasonic,
The Vogues,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Electric Prunes,
FM Einheit,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Main Source,
Can,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rakim,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hot Snakes,
Babytalk,
Swell Maps,
Mad Mike,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rotary Connection,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tom Boy,
H. Thieme,
Bush Tetras,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Association,
Aloha Tigers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ornette Coleman,
Wasted Youth,
Soulsonic Force,
Au Pairs,
Brass Construction,
The Fugs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Godley & Creme,
Judy Mowatt,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hasil Adkins,
Tears for Fears,
Maurizio,
Pere Ubu,
Ronnie Foster,
Excepter,
Graham Central Station,
Delon & Dalcan,
E-Dancer,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.