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 Peru and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Todd Terry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Rotary Connection,
Qualms,
The Searchers,
The New Christs,
Blossom Toes,
The Doors,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Moon,
Bush Tetras,
Bauhaus,
Sex Pistols,
Tommy Roe,
Tropical Tobacco,
U.S. Maple,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Moody Blues,
Eden Ahbez,
Slick Rick,
Massinfluence,
Khruangbin,
Newcleus,
Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
Juan Atkins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Whodini,
Michelle Simonal,
Accadde A,
The Gap Band,
Wolf Eyes,
Agent Orange,
Man Parrish,
The Gladiators,
Brothers Johnson,
Leonard Cohen,
Spandau Ballet,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tim Buckley,
David Axelrod,
The Names,
Archie Shepp,
Agitation Free,
L. Decosne,
Country Teasers,
Eurythmics,
Moby Grape,
The Pop Group,
Charles Mingus,
Sixth Finger,
Alphaville,
Deepchord,
Wally Richardson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eve St. Jones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Offenders,
Visage,
Moebius,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.