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 Kazakhstan and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Cluster to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Jawbox,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Selecter,
Mo-Dettes,
Lyres,
Con Funk Shun,
Rekid,
Rakim,
The Mojo Men,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Faraquet,
David McCallum,
Scratch Acid,
The Beau Brummels,
Carl Craig,
The United States of America,
Soul II Soul,
Trumans Water,
Rosa Yemen,
The Moody Blues,
Siglo XX,
Severed Heads,
Arthur Verocai,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Todd Terry,
X-Ray Spex,
Robert Görl,
Stiv Bators,
Slick Rick,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Laurel Aitken,
Von Mondo,
Sixth Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cluster,
Marmalade,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
The Modern Lovers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rapeman,
Buzzcocks,
Pussy Galore,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crispian St. Peters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pole,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fluxion,
T. Rex,
Ornette Coleman,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alice Coltrane,
Kas Product,
Urselle,
This Heat,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.