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 Ecuador and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Aloha Tigers to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
The Trojans,
David McCallum,
Stetsasonic,
UT,
Deakin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Sonics,
Das Ding,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ronnie Foster,
U.S. Maple,
Terrestrial Tones,
AZ,
Banda Bassotti,
Jeru the Damaja,
Von Mondo,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Spandau Ballet,
Agitation Free,
The Last Poets,
Mary Jane Girls,
Urselle,
48th St. Collective,
Graham Central Station,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rhythm & Sound,
Groovy Waters,
Boredoms,
Surgeon,
Reuben Wilson,
Prince Buster,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gichy Dan,
The Modern Lovers,
Marmalade,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Talk Talk,
Arthur Verocai,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cure,
Lou Reed,
Bob Dylan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Country Joe & The Fish,
a-ha,
The Mummies,
Gabor Szabo,
OOIOO,
Zero Boys,
James White and The Blacks,
Ludus,
Robert Hood,
The Gladiators,
Average White Band,
Sandy B,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare,
New York Dolls,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.