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 Venezuela and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Blackbyrds to the rap 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Procol Harum,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Erasure,
Monks,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
Blossom Toes,
Loose Ends,
The Fugs,
Lungfish,
Groovy Waters,
Deepchord,
Nico,
Unrelated Segments,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Slave,
Little Man,
Andrew Hill,
The Music Machine,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Oneida,
Quadrant,
AZ,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radiohead,
Gichy Dan,
Isaac Hayes,
Mission of Burma,
Pierre Henry,
Kaleidoscope,
The Divine Comedy,
Steve Hackett,
Rapeman,
Ponytail,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Monochrome Set,
Jacques Brel,
Charles Mingus,
La Düsseldorf,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Smog,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joy Division,
Scion,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Monks,
Idris Muhammad,
Tomorrow,
Sugar Minott,
Ultra Naté,
The Last Poets,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Flag,
The Techniques,
Soft Cell,
Audionom,
Pantytec,
MDC,
Harmonia,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.