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 Sierra Leone and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Byrd to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
The Electric Prunes,
the Bar-Kays,
Desert Stars,
Brothers Johnson,
Bobby Sherman,
Radio Birdman,
Moss Icon,
The Human League,
U.S. Maple,
Howard Jones,
Brand Nubian,
Adolescents,
T. Rex,
Rekid,
Maurizio,
Niagra,
Sex Pistols,
Ice-T,
Arcadia,
Reuben Wilson,
Trumans Water,
Procol Harum,
Chris & Cosey,
Bauhaus,
Sparks,
Jeff Lynne,
The Residents,
Jeru the Damaja,
Japan,
JFA,
The J.B.'s,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radiohead,
Model 500,
Archie Shepp,
Eric Copeland,
Kerri Chandler,
Harpers Bizarre,
Average White Band,
Little Man,
Josef K,
Judy Mowatt,
The Shadows of Knight,
Wasted Youth,
Rosa Yemen,
Hot Snakes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Con Funk Shun,
Chrome,
Icehouse,
Gang of Four,
Man Parrish,
48th St. Collective,
Magazine,
Girls At Our Best!,
UT,
Donald Byrd,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.