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 Andorra and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator 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 Nick Fraelich to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Swans,
Lindisfarne,
Shoche,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Monks,
Unrelated Segments,
Stereo Dub,
Avey Tare,
Alphaville,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Grandmaster Flash,
Amon Düül,
Erasure,
Niagra,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Certain Ratio,
Suicide,
Monolake,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barry Ungar,
Excepter,
8 Eyed Spy,
Josef K,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers,
Minny Pops,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lightning Bolt,
Boredoms,
Qualms,
Marmalade,
Gang of Four,
Ralphi Rosario,
R.M.O.,
Grey Daturas,
Eddi Front,
The Pretty Things,
Essential Logic,
The Grass Roots,
Pussy Galore,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deakin,
Scott Walker,
The Detroit Cobras,
Reuben Wilson,
Saccharine Trust,
The Zeros,
Nation of Ulysses,
DJ Style,
Bob Dylan,
Pierre Henry,
Maurizio,
Toni Rubio,
Khruangbin,
The Sound,
Animal Collective,
Oblivians,
Agent Orange,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Techniques,
Brick,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.