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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Donny Hathaway to the disco 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
June Days,
The Young Rascals,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Alphaville,
Byron Stingily,
Anthony Braxton,
The Divine Comedy,
The Birthday Party,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Clear Light,
Essential Logic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultimate Spinach,
Inner City,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Golliwogs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Martian,
Au Pairs,
The Happenings,
Dual Sessions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gang Starr,
Soft Cell,
The New Christs,
48th St. Collective,
Jeff Lynne,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kerrie Biddell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bang On A Can,
Tim Buckley,
The Zeros,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Doobie Brothers,
X-101,
Arcadia,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minutemen,
The Gories,
Rod Modell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cheater Slicks,
Khruangbin,
The Offenders,
Brand Nubian,
Graham Central Station,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eric Copeland,
Nick Fraelich,
8 Eyed Spy,
Underground Resistance,
Icehouse,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Negative Approach,
Jerry's Kids,
Charles Mingus,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.