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 Malaysia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Moon to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
AZ,
Derrick May,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gang of Four,
Scan 7,
Amazonics,
The Mojo Men,
Mission of Burma,
Morten Harket,
Mad Mike,
Barrington Levy,
Simply Red,
Smog,
8 Eyed Spy,
Make Up,
The J.B.'s,
La Düsseldorf,
Severed Heads,
Michelle Simonal,
The Birthday Party,
Jacques Brel,
Sällskapet,
Average White Band,
Television Personalities,
Lou Reed,
Thee Headcoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Heaven 17,
Suicide,
Lightning Bolt,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Faraquet,
Howard Jones,
Laurel Aitken,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantytec,
Absolute Body Control,
The Martian,
Trumans Water,
John Coltrane,
Donny Hathaway,
Aloha Tigers,
Iggy Pop,
Eddi Front,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Camberwell Now,
June of 44,
Slave,
Lakeside,
The Shadows of Knight,
L. Decosne,
10cc,
Tommy Roe,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wally Richardson,
Organ,
Soulsonic Force,
Arab on Radar,
Desert Stars,
The Evens,
Derrick Morgan,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.