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 Peru and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Surgeon to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Lucky Dragons,
Pole,
Q65,
The Remains,
Charles Mingus,
Eric Dolphy,
ABC,
Sister Nancy,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
H. Thieme,
Fugazi,
James Chance & The Contortions,
OOIOO,
The Seeds,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Tremeloes,
Outsiders,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Barracudas,
JFA,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultimate Spinach,
Buzzcocks,
The Fugs,
Circle Jerks,
Heaven 17,
Black Bananas,
The New Christs,
Dead Boys,
Tears for Fears,
Malaria!,
Supertramp,
The Trojans,
Spandau Ballet,
Bluetip,
Blossom Toes,
Cheater Slicks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lower 48,
Marc Almond,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Underground Resistance,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sonic Youth,
Gong,
David Axelrod,
Bad Manners,
Erasure,
Echospace,
E-Dancer,
Carl Craig,
Oblivians,
Smog,
EPMD,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.