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 Somalia and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 It's A Beautiful Day to the grunge 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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Nas,
Crash Course in Science,
Crime,
Scratch Acid,
Tom Boy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Second Layer,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Dave Clark Five,
H. Thieme,
Soul II Soul,
Agent Orange,
Marc Almond,
Howard Jones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultra Naté,
Matthew Halsall,
The Motions,
The Young Rascals,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
K-Klass,
Buzzcocks,
U.S. Maple,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
Mad Mike,
Frankie Knuckles,
Barry Ungar,
Glenn Branca,
Sexual Harrassment,
Peter & Gordon,
Goldenarms,
Eurythmics,
Aloha Tigers,
Procol Harum,
Alison Limerick,
Gabor Szabo,
The Busters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Masters at Work,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
T. Rex,
Ossler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
Brothers Johnson,
Delta 5,
Bush Tetras,
Sparks,
The Black Dice,
Angry Samoans,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eric Copeland,
Amon Düül,
Ponytail,
Lightning Bolt,
Ken Boothe,
Marshall Jefferson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Porter Ricks,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.