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 Vanuatu and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lou Christie to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Radio Birdman,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Pretty Things,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Andrew Hill,
Kayak,
Eric Copeland,
The Misunderstood,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deadbeat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Residents,
Subhumans,
Fear,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Martian,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Niagra,
Camberwell Now,
Brass Construction,
Ohio Players,
Laurel Aitken,
Von Mondo,
Q65,
Pussy Galore,
Groovy Waters,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Derrick Morgan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doors,
Babytalk,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mad Mike,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kevin Saunderson,
Alphaville,
Iggy Pop,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harry Pussy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cecil Taylor,
Lucky Dragons,
The Durutti Column,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Man Eating Sloth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mantronix,
The Motions,
The Beau Brummels,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rotary Connection,
Magazine,
The Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
Audionom,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.