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 Cyprus and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Ralphi Rosario to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Alarm Clocks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Television Personalities,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Young Rascals,
Y Pants,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mantronix,
Wire,
The Monochrome Set,
Cluster,
The Shadows of Knight,
Camouflage,
Lungfish,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Schoolly D,
Bauhaus,
Crooked Eye,
Q65,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
Rosa Yemen,
Scientists,
One Last Wish,
Heaven 17,
The Fortunes,
The Standells,
The Gories,
DJ Sneak,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Sherman,
The Velvet Underground,
a-ha,
Deepchord,
Simply Red,
The Fire Engines,
The Evens,
June of 44,
Maurizio,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fuzztones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
ABC,
Don Cherry,
Skriet,
Make Up,
Aloha Tigers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sandy B,
Youth Brigade,
Vainqueur,
Urselle,
Whodini,
Moby Grape,
Flamin' Groovies,
KRS-One,
Johnny Clarke,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.