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 Equatorial Guinea and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Bill Wells to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hoover,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Leonard Cohen,
Lungfish,
MC5,
EPMD,
Bobby Byrd,
Deadbeat,
Aswad,
Prince Buster,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Walker Brothers,
A Certain Ratio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Make Up,
The Raincoats,
Cluster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scratch Acid,
Lightning Bolt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spoonie Gee,
Buzzcocks,
Moebius,
Ronan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Don Cherry,
Joyce Sims,
The Sonics,
The Dead C,
X-101,
Grey Daturas,
Severed Heads,
Motorama,
Joey Negro,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Altered Images,
The Alarm Clocks,
10cc,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Simply Red,
Gang Green,
cv313,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
Organ,
The Remains,
Pantytec,
UT,
Faust,
The Skatalites,
Kaleidoscope,
World's Most,
The Dirtbombs,
The Evens,
Parry Music,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.