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 Bangladesh and from Cairo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro 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 Scrapy to the punk 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
the Swans,
Swans,
Liliput,
Lightning Bolt,
Country Teasers,
The Doors,
Public Enemy,
Tom Boy,
Fatback Band,
Nirvana,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Five Americans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aural Exciters,
Mad Mike,
Pierre Henry,
The Pretty Things,
X-Ray Spex,
Half Japanese,
Erasure,
The Skatalites,
Roy Ayers,
The Selecter,
Rotary Connection,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rakim,
Warsaw,
Funkadelic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Colin Newman,
Minutemen,
Ossler,
The Human League,
Mr. Review,
Todd Rundgren,
Funky Four + One,
Lou Christie,
Pussy Galore,
Gong,
Eddi Front,
Robert Hood,
The Fortunes,
The Blues Magoos,
Popol Vuh,
UT,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed,
Lucky Dragons,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Arthur Verocai,
These Immortal Souls,
Henry Cow,
Faust,
48th St. Collective,
Banda Bassotti,
Pantytec,
Los Fastidios,
Animal Collective,
Babytalk,
The Last Poets,
H. Thieme,
Newcleus,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.