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 Jordan and from Tokyo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Rosa Yemen to the techno 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 The Remains. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
U.S. Maple,
Dennis Brown,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Monks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Alice Coltrane,
The Golliwogs,
June of 44,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tubeway Army,
Niagra,
The Moleskins,
Brand Nubian,
Harry Pussy,
Rakim,
Tommy Roe,
Loose Ends,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Michelle Simonal,
Popol Vuh,
Barry Ungar,
Robert Hood,
Archie Shepp,
Janne Schatter,
Eve St. Jones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sugar Minott,
James White and The Blacks,
Scrapy,
Unwound,
The Monks,
Babytalk,
Arcadia,
The Tremeloes,
The Music Machine,
The Young Rascals,
Soulsonic Force,
The Searchers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Amazonics,
Supertramp,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lou Christie,
Moebius,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Magazine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Los Fastidios,
Monolake,
The Invisible,
The Real Kids,
Kayak,
Audionom,
Eddi Front,
The Victims,
Sex Pistols,
Black Bananas,
Sonic Youth,
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pantaleimon,
Cymande,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.