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 Bangladesh and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Boz Scaggs to the techno 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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
New Order,
Minnie Riperton,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Moleskins,
Howard Jones,
D'Angelo,
Alison Limerick,
Rotary Connection,
Eric Copeland,
A Certain Ratio,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Monks,
Cal Tjader,
Morten Harket,
Cameo,
Adolescents,
Fela Kuti,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Residents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sun City Girls,
Curtis Mayfield,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sällskapet,
Public Enemy,
Sam Rivers,
Alice Coltrane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bob Dylan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lightning Bolt,
Donny Hathaway,
The Raincoats,
Janne Schatter,
La Düsseldorf,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Angels of Light,
Nation of Ulysses,
The J.B.'s,
The Fugs,
The Fortunes,
Oneida,
Technova,
Livin' Joy,
The Gladiators,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
Bill Near,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jerry's Kids,
Depeche Mode,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.