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 Greece and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unrelated Segments record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
Eric Dolphy,
The Happenings,
Connie Case,
Black Moon,
Public Enemy,
The Gap Band,
Inner City,
Avey Tare,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Goldenarms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bronski Beat,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Toasters,
the Human League,
Quadrant,
X-101,
K-Klass,
Yusef Lateef,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grandmaster Flash,
Popol Vuh,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rekid,
Harry Pussy,
Suicide,
The Index,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jawbox,
the Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scion,
48th St. Collective,
The Skatalites,
The Stooges,
Boredoms,
Kas Product,
Whodini,
Pagans,
Interpol,
Brand Nubian,
Joensuu 1685,
Max Romeo,
Vainqueur,
Von Mondo,
Erasure,
Maurizio,
Loose Ends,
Warsaw,
Angry Samoans,
Dennis Brown,
Drexciya,
Soft Machine,
Yazoo,
Simply Red,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Derrick Morgan,
Shoche,
Neu!,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.