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 Comoros and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sam Rivers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Audionom,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Fire Engines,
Nik Kershaw,
Dead Boys,
The Blackbyrds,
Eli Mardock,
The Flesh Eaters,
Patti Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
Slick Rick,
The Gladiators,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tim Buckley,
Black Pus,
Bobby Womack,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Gap Band,
Don Cherry,
Minny Pops,
Tres Demented,
Inner City,
Dennis Brown,
Swell Maps,
The Gories,
Deadbeat,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
Bob Dylan,
Aural Exciters,
Pierre Henry,
Blossom Toes,
Yusef Lateef,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Index,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
New Order,
June of 44,
AZ,
Mars,
Black Flag,
La Düsseldorf,
Nick Fraelich,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Davy DMX,
Tubeway Army,
Sam Rivers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eden Ahbez,
Das Ding,
The Shadows of Knight,
Supertramp,
Derrick Morgan,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.