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 Nigeria and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Bobby Byrd to the funk 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Fortunes,
Gang Green,
Metal Thangz,
Half Japanese,
Lalo Schifrin,
China Crisis,
Todd Rundgren,
Inner City,
Eddi Front,
Skarface,
Robert Hood,
Duran Duran,
Anakelly,
Oneida,
Sam Rivers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Radio Birdman,
Flamin' Groovies,
Stetsasonic,
E-Dancer,
Bluetip,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultravox,
Lalann,
Maurizio,
The Move,
Maleditus Sound,
Grandmaster Flash,
Clear Light,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Techniques,
Ice-T,
10cc,
Glenn Branca,
Scion,
Laurel Aitken,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yaz,
Barrington Levy,
The Knickerbockers,
Carl Craig,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cramps,
Gong,
Scratch Acid,
Jawbox,
Joe Finger,
Mr. Review,
Soft Cell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Schoolly D,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Letta Mbulu,
Kerri Chandler,
Janne Schatter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wasted Youth,
The Five Americans,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Talk Talk,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.