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 Iran and from Jakarta.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro 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 Supertramp to the electroclash 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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
KRS-One,
Oblivians,
Minnie Riperton,
D'Angelo,
The Star Department,
Amon Düül II,
The Sonics,
Pierre Henry,
Circle Jerks,
Sam Rivers,
The Moody Blues,
Icehouse,
The Motions,
Sonny Sharrock,
Reagan Youth,
Neu!,
The Residents,
Funky Four + One,
Matthew Halsall,
Yaz,
Mary Jane Girls,
Au Pairs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Janne Schatter,
John Holt,
Grauzone,
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Hood,
Robert Wyatt,
DNA,
Mantronix,
Rufus Thomas,
Sixth Finger,
Marvin Gaye,
The Searchers,
H. Thieme,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eric Copeland,
Iggy Pop,
Japan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Outsiders,
Sarah Menescal,
Joe Smooth,
Barry Ungar,
Hashim,
Nation of Ulysses,
Aural Exciters,
Ponytail,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lightning Bolt,
K-Klass,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Donny Hathaway,
the Association,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Laurel Aitken,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Unrelated Segments,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.