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 Albania and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 spring reverb 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 Mr. Review to the dance 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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?
Desert Stars,
Carl Craig,
Peter & Gordon,
Fela Kuti,
Lindisfarne,
Porter Ricks,
The Dirtbombs,
Camouflage,
Bluetip,
Aural Exciters,
Sun Ra,
Monks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Andrew Hill,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The New Christs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tubeway Army,
DJ Sneak,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Flag,
The Selecter,
Circle Jerks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bootsy Collins,
H. Thieme,
Jacques Brel,
the Swans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nas,
Half Japanese,
The Associates,
Michelle Simonal,
Eddi Front,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sparks,
Pierre Henry,
The Last Poets,
Organ,
Outsiders,
The Moleskins,
Cheater Slicks,
Alphaville,
The Dead C,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lou Reed,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nick Fraelich,
Slave,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boz Scaggs,
Derrick Morgan,
Amazonics,
Blossom Toes,
Byron Stingily,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.