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 Papua New Guinea and from Seoul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Angry Samoans to the funk 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Harry Pussy,
Mantronix,
Bob Dylan,
Model 500,
Pulsallama,
Sugar Minott,
Silicon Teens,
Bauhaus,
The Pretty Things,
ABC,
Buzzcocks,
Monolake,
The Slackers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Max Romeo,
Al Stewart,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Stereo Dub,
Schoolly D,
Eli Mardock,
Gang Starr,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Juan Atkins,
Interpol,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pere Ubu,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Busters,
Ice-T,
Khruangbin,
the Bar-Kays,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Neon Judgement,
L. Decosne,
The Knickerbockers,
Ludus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joy Division,
The Young Rascals,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Circle Jerks,
Outsiders,
Japan,
The Sonics,
the Germs,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Happenings,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mummies,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sound Behaviour,
The Gap Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Alice Coltrane,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Pop Group,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.