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 Georgia and from Edmonton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dorothy Ashby to the crunk 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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Scion,
Brick,
Ice-T,
Severed Heads,
The Martian,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Heaven 17,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Names,
Surgeon,
Yaz,
The Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nico,
Scientists,
Warren Ellis,
the Swans,
The Black Dice,
The Vogues,
The Offenders,
Marshall Jefferson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Country Teasers,
The Barracudas,
The Doors,
Q and Not U,
The Count Five,
The Slackers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang of Four,
Max Romeo,
Wings,
Robert Görl,
Essential Logic,
Derrick May,
Roy Ayers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cheater Slicks,
Jeff Lynne,
The Golliwogs,
Von Mondo,
Angry Samoans,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Q65,
Nils Olav,
The Last Poets,
Delon & Dalcan,
Juan Atkins,
The Wake,
Rod Modell,
X-102,
Soft Cell,
Al Stewart,
Crispy Ambulance,
Faust,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.