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 Barbados and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Sex Pistols to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Anthony Braxton,
Judy Mowatt,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Byron Stingily,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fatback Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Duran Duran,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Junior Murvin,
The Vogues,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang Starr,
Lyres,
The Durutti Column,
Urselle,
Soft Cell,
Television,
The United States of America,
Accadde A,
The Young Rascals,
the Association,
The Slackers,
Aswad,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Buckinghams,
Niagra,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stereo Dub,
Wings,
Piero Umiliani,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Slits,
The Doors,
Funky Four + One,
Minny Pops,
Aural Exciters,
Eli Mardock,
Ten City,
The Monochrome Set,
Skarface,
Roxette,
Livin' Joy,
UT,
The Fall,
Suicide,
Cymande,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Skriet,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Stockholm Monsters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wolf Eyes,
Subhumans,
Maleditus Sound,
Slave,
Robert Wyatt,
Harry Pussy,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.