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 Antigua and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro 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 The Fire Engines to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
In Retrospect,
Rotary Connection,
The Pretty Things,
Minny Pops,
Glenn Branca,
Parry Music,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Flag,
Leonard Cohen,
Popol Vuh,
Loose Ends,
Dave Gahan,
Brothers Johnson,
Ponytail,
John Lydon,
Desert Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
the Human League,
Dual Sessions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Colin Newman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harry Pussy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Zapp,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cure,
The Real Kids,
Marc Almond,
X-102,
Agitation Free,
Erasure,
The Index,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Sheep,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Alice Coltrane,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster,
Kaleidoscope,
Make Up,
The Smiths,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
Stetsasonic,
New York Dolls,
The Saints,
Cameo,
Soul II Soul,
Newcleus,
The Stooges,
Derrick May,
Rhythm & Sound,
Massinfluence,
the Sonics,
Pulsallama,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Peter & Gordon,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.