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 Nauru and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Animal Collective to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Association,
Urselle,
John Lydon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Royal Trux,
Idris Muhammad,
Alison Limerick,
Boz Scaggs,
Charles Mingus,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Anthony Braxton,
New York Dolls,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Henry Cow,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skarface,
The Beau Brummels,
The Standells,
Lalo Schifrin,
Iggy Pop,
Bad Manners,
Sonny Sharrock,
Minny Pops,
Ponytail,
Hasil Adkins,
Pole,
Little Man,
48th St. Collective,
Blancmange,
The Velvet Underground,
Arcadia,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mojo Men,
Hardrive,
Sällskapet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Visage,
Dave Gahan,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Seeds,
The Names,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mission of Burma,
Con Funk Shun,
Minor Threat,
The Tremeloes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Quadrant,
The Last Poets,
Dark Day,
Eurythmics,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
T. Rex,
Pharoah Sanders,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.