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 Papua New Guinea 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 synthesizer 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 The Grass Roots to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
UT,
Hot Snakes,
Arthur Verocai,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Stooges,
DJ Style,
Vladislav Delay,
Ken Boothe,
Donald Byrd,
Mission of Burma,
Gang Starr,
Flash Fearless,
The Pretty Things,
Cluster,
Q65,
Bobby Byrd,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
ABC,
Ponytail,
Robert Görl,
Aswad,
Sällskapet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Joy Division,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Black Bananas,
Eli Mardock,
X-101,
Electric Prunes,
Visage,
Robert Wyatt,
Nico,
The Walker Brothers,
Dark Day,
Rapeman,
The Beau Brummels,
the Soft Cell,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Matthew Halsall,
Tubeway Army,
Outsiders,
The Fuzztones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Duran Duran,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Radiohead,
The Grass Roots,
Yellowson,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
MDC,
Can,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.