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 Guatemala and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Curtis Mayfield to the crunk 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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Hoover,
the Fania All-Stars,
CMW,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Make Up,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yellowson,
Rufus Thomas,
Harmonia,
the Association,
Marmalade,
Tim Buckley,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eddi Front,
Rotary Connection,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bauhaus,
Can,
Severed Heads,
JFA,
Michelle Simonal,
Pussy Galore,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Stooges,
Dawn Penn,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Angry Samoans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kenny Larkin,
Deepchord,
Matthew Halsall,
Rakim,
Altered Images,
Arthur Verocai,
F. McDonald,
Monks,
10cc,
Lungfish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Subhumans,
DJ Sneak,
Fad Gadget,
Amazonics,
Pylon,
Echospace,
FM Einheit,
Juan Atkins,
Davy DMX,
The Angels of Light,
Ludus,
Ohio Players,
The Smoke,
Al Stewart,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
OOIOO,
Tears for Fears,
Jandek,
Drexciya,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.