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 Tuvalu and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Jerry Gold Smith 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Scientists,
Kevin Saunderson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Camouflage,
Glenn Branca,
Eric B and Rakim,
B.T. Express,
Erasure,
Chrome,
Donny Hathaway,
Theoretical Girls,
Basic Channel,
Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Popol Vuh,
Saccharine Trust,
Dennis Brown,
New York Dolls,
Maleditus Sound,
Thompson Twins,
Kerrie Biddell,
Motorama,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arcadia,
Hasil Adkins,
Ornette Coleman,
Stiv Bators,
Byron Stingily,
Flipper,
Bobby Byrd,
Crime,
Kayak,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Drexciya,
Sugar Minott,
Minny Pops,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Wake,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lungfish,
David Bowie,
Funky Four + One,
Chris Corsano,
Todd Rundgren,
Lightning Bolt,
Q65,
Roger Hodgson,
DJ Style,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
K-Klass,
Public Enemy,
Warsaw,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Smoke,
John Cale,
Al Stewart,
Magma,
Spandau Ballet,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.