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 Sierra Leone and from Jakarta.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Desert Stars to the jazz 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
The Index,
A Flock of Seagulls,
48th St. Collective,
Eddi Front,
Amon Düül,
The Martian,
Laurel Aitken,
Juan Atkins,
Au Pairs,
Hoover,
Sällskapet,
Eden Ahbez,
Eve St. Jones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nils Olav,
cv313,
Mars,
The Birthday Party,
The Residents,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
John Holt,
Peter and Kerry,
Cameo,
Skarface,
Smog,
Joe Smooth,
The Walker Brothers,
Judy Mowatt,
Throbbing Gristle,
Althea and Donna,
Quando Quango,
Lalo Schifrin,
Loose Ends,
Motorama,
Flipper,
Wolf Eyes,
Public Enemy,
Minutemen,
Drexciya,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dead C,
Ice-T,
John Coltrane,
The Stooges,
Aloha Tigers,
Mad Mike,
Barry Ungar,
Gang Starr,
Soft Machine,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kaleidoscope,
Tres Demented,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David Axelrod,
Robert Wyatt,
LL Cool J,
Yazoo,
Subhumans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.