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 Belize and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Minor Threat to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Can,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funkadelic,
Mark Hollis,
James White and The Blacks,
Make Up,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
DNA,
The Wake,
The Happenings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Talk Talk,
Byron Stingily,
Reuben Wilson,
Aloha Tigers,
Oneida,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Holt,
Ponytail,
ABBA,
Neil Young,
Supertramp,
Sixth Finger,
Donald Byrd,
Moss Icon,
Index,
Clear Light,
Crooked Eye,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Banda Bassotti,
Essential Logic,
U.S. Maple,
The Trojans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Seeds,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New York Dolls,
Excepter,
Bush Tetras,
Blake Baxter,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fortunes,
The Angels of Light,
Barbara Tucker,
Judy Mowatt,
Zapp,
The Monks,
Grey Daturas,
the Slits,
Das Ding,
Sarah Menescal,
Young Marble Giants,
Desert Stars,
The Doors,
Matthew Bourne,
The Stooges,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Human League,
Tres Demented,
The Alarm Clocks,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.