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 Seychelles and from Sao Paulo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Yellowson,
Leonard Cohen,
Porter Ricks,
Skarface,
Parry Music,
Soul II Soul,
Lightning Bolt,
Tres Demented,
Loose Ends,
Scientists,
Massinfluence,
X-102,
K-Klass,
The Five Americans,
The Kinks,
Arab on Radar,
The Monks,
Television,
Index,
Warsaw,
Black Flag,
Rotary Connection,
Newcleus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fad Gadget,
Blake Baxter,
Scan 7,
Slave,
Unwound,
Von Mondo,
Isaac Hayes,
Sex Pistols,
Pole,
Alice Coltrane,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Darondo,
Adolescents,
The Alarm Clocks,
Icehouse,
A Certain Ratio,
X-Ray Spex,
The Pretty Things,
Slick Rick,
The Fortunes,
Groovy Waters,
Hasil Adkins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Oneida,
Gong,
Barry Ungar,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rosa Yemen,
Aswad,
Deepchord,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Soulsonic Force,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.