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 United States and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Janne Schatter to the rap 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Rekid,
Symarip,
Eric Dolphy,
Steve Hackett,
Byron Stingily,
Spandau Ballet,
ABBA,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lightning Bolt,
Heaven 17,
X-101,
Bad Manners,
The Cramps,
Reuben Wilson,
Bush Tetras,
Glenn Branca,
Average White Band,
Leonard Cohen,
The Smiths,
Popol Vuh,
Make Up,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
LL Cool J,
Andrew Hill,
Bauhaus,
Black Pus,
The Seeds,
Sight & Sound,
Erykah Badu,
Brothers Johnson,
Harmonia,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mummies,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cymande,
The Raincoats,
Section 25,
the Slits,
Jacob Miller,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Pierre Henry,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Blackbyrds,
Boz Scaggs,
Mission of Burma,
Crooked Eye,
Newcleus,
Young Marble Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barry Ungar,
Scrapy,
The Knickerbockers,
Simply Red,
Dorothy Ashby,
Deakin,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.