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 Norway and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Charles Mingus to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
The New Christs,
Marmalade,
Newcleus,
Nico,
Lightning Bolt,
48th St. Collective,
Reuben Wilson,
Talk Talk,
Inner City,
Ossler,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Terry Callier,
MC5,
David McCallum,
The Blackbyrds,
Bizarre Inc.,
Thompson Twins,
Roger Hodgson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boredoms,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Royal Trux,
Urselle,
Lalo Schifrin,
Funky Four + One,
David Axelrod,
Pantytec,
Quantec,
Lungfish,
Gang Starr,
Loose Ends,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marc Almond,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Erykah Badu,
Minutemen,
Susan Cadogan,
Joe Smooth,
Rosa Yemen,
Sex Pistols,
Isaac Hayes,
The Saints,
ABBA,
Pharoah Sanders,
ABC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hot Snakes,
In Retrospect,
Agent Orange,
Fat Boys,
The Cowsills,
Eve St. Jones,
Nirvana,
Nick Fraelich,
John Holt,
Pantaleimon,
CMW,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.