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 Equatorial Guinea and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Smog 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glenn Branca,
Q65,
Toni Rubio,
The Star Department,
the Sonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
La Düsseldorf,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Motorama,
the Association,
the Normal,
The Knickerbockers,
The Evens,
Stetsasonic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ponytail,
The Monks,
Bobby Byrd,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minutemen,
Carl Craig,
Marc Almond,
Pantytec,
Rod Modell,
The Smiths,
ABC,
The Five Americans,
Angry Samoans,
Franke,
The Monochrome Set,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Judy Mowatt,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quadrant,
Monks,
Buzzcocks,
Oblivians,
Sandy B,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Maleditus Sound,
The Birthday Party,
Suburban Knight,
FM Einheit,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Slackers,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Pop Group,
The Dirtbombs,
Massinfluence,
In Retrospect,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang of Four,
Radio Birdman,
The American Breed,
Matthew Bourne,
CMW,
The Skatalites,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.