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 Canada and from London.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Howard Jones to the grunge 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Unrelated Segments,
Avey Tare,
Harry Pussy,
The Invisible,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fall,
Sun Ra,
Ronnie Foster,
Archie Shepp,
The Modern Lovers,
Oblivians,
Robert Görl,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Anakelly,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Index,
James White and The Blacks,
Jacob Miller,
Ornette Coleman,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nik Kershaw,
R.M.O.,
Joe Smooth,
Chris & Cosey,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Neon Judgement,
Sex Pistols,
Lindisfarne,
Rotary Connection,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Heaven 17,
Ken Boothe,
Dorothy Ashby,
Arcadia,
Goldenarms,
Soft Machine,
Alton Ellis,
Japan,
Swans,
Lungfish,
The Smoke,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cameo,
David Axelrod,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Hoover,
Gang Gang Dance,
Iggy Pop,
The Cure,
The Offenders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Country Teasers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Brand Nubian,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultravox,
The Toasters,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.