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 Chile and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord 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 Big Daddy Kane to the rock 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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Cybotron,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
X-102,
The Invisible,
Metal Thangz,
Traffic Nightmare,
Saccharine Trust,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Monks,
Fela Kuti,
Flamin' Groovies,
Carl Craig,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Blossom Toes,
Jeff Mills,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Normal,
The Divine Comedy,
Rod Modell,
Roxette,
Mantronix,
Cecil Taylor,
Robert Hood,
the Association,
Janne Schatter,
Das Ding,
MDC,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bauhaus,
The Beau Brummels,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Selecter,
Crooked Eye,
The Electric Prunes,
ABBA,
Wally Richardson,
Visage,
Gil Scott Heron,
Drexciya,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Brothers Johnson,
Blake Baxter,
Buzzcocks,
Mars,
Flash Fearless,
Interpol,
The Barracudas,
Monks,
The Residents,
Patti Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Black Flag,
The Motions,
Trumans Water,
Flipper,
One Last Wish,
Second Layer,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.