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 Bulgaria and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fat Boys to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Danielle Patucci,
X-Ray Spex,
Glenn Branca,
La Düsseldorf,
Sun Ra,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
James White and The Blacks,
Deakin,
Fad Gadget,
Arab on Radar,
EPMD,
Yusef Lateef,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Connie Case,
The Alarm Clocks,
China Crisis,
the Swans,
Fear,
Amon Düül II,
Massinfluence,
Kerri Chandler,
Spoonie Gee,
Animal Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Tommy Roe,
Agitation Free,
X-102,
The Moody Blues,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Erasure,
Hasil Adkins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Peter & Gordon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Brothers Johnson,
Swell Maps,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Index,
Marine Girls,
ABC,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Slits,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harry Pussy,
The Selecter,
Black Sheep,
The Offenders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Blake Baxter,
Groovy Waters,
Second Layer,
John Lydon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Loose Ends,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sun City Girls,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.