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 Dominica 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Index 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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cheater Slicks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Faraquet,
Hot Snakes,
Little Man,
Crime,
Pierre Henry,
Jerry's Kids,
The Dead C,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
World's Most,
Camberwell Now,
Unwound,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Piero Umiliani,
Man Eating Sloth,
Soft Cell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Easy Going,
Scientists,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lightning Bolt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hasil Adkins,
Davy DMX,
Scion,
Blancmange,
Barrington Levy,
Eve St. Jones,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Trojans,
The United States of America,
The Mummies,
Public Enemy,
Kurtis Blow,
The Last Poets,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Toasters,
Alison Limerick,
June Days,
Public Image Ltd.,
a-ha,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Sherman,
Derrick Morgan,
Porter Ricks,
Trumans Water,
Essential Logic,
John Cale,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Graham Central Station,
The Detroit Cobras,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric Copeland,
Ornette Coleman,
Average White Band,
Boredoms,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.