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 Luxembourg and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Oblivians to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Cal Tjader,
June of 44,
Leonard Cohen,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ken Boothe,
Susan Cadogan,
Lucky Dragons,
Excepter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Don Cherry,
Mad Mike,
Bang On A Can,
The Knickerbockers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Lynne,
The Invisible,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Toasters,
The Buckinghams,
Bad Manners,
Animal Collective,
Terry Callier,
Second Layer,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wolf Eyes,
Yusef Lateef,
Max Romeo,
the Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
The Offenders,
Joe Smooth,
Todd Rundgren,
The Motions,
Stetsasonic,
Skaos,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Procol Harum,
The Moleskins,
Oneida,
Spoonie Gee,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
E-Dancer,
X-102,
Delta 5,
Deakin,
Severed Heads,
Absolute Body Control,
Zero Boys,
Carl Craig,
Scrapy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gang of Four,
the Sonics,
Rekid,
Sonny Sharrock,
Half Japanese,
Intrusion,
Tim Buckley,
Nils Olav,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ponytail,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.