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 South Africa and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gang of Four to the grime 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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Sandy B,
T.S.O.L.,
Nico,
Radio Birdman,
X-Ray Spex,
Ohio Players,
Roy Ayers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eden Ahbez,
The Cowsills,
The Music Machine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Godley & Creme,
Guru Guru,
The Martian,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Man Parrish,
X-101,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Grass Roots,
The Busters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Schoolly D,
Y Pants,
Kerrie Biddell,
Joe Smooth,
Todd Terry,
Ken Boothe,
Lou Reed,
Drexciya,
Maurizio,
EPMD,
Massinfluence,
Roger Hodgson,
Hot Snakes,
Moss Icon,
Mad Mike,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang of Four,
Nik Kershaw,
Deadbeat,
Grauzone,
Danielle Patucci,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Aaron Thompson,
The Searchers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Los Fastidios,
Cheater Slicks,
Pagans,
Arcadia,
Prince Buster,
Panda Bear,
Thompson Twins,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scrapy,
Marvin Gaye,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Blackbyrds,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.