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 Seychelles and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the electroclash 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
The Beau Brummels,
Rekid,
the Slits,
DJ Style,
Joy Division,
Freddie Wadling,
Kool Moe Dee,
DNA,
The Dirtbombs,
These Immortal Souls,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Aural Exciters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Vladislav Delay,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joensuu 1685,
AZ,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Selecter,
The Mummies,
Make Up,
The Five Americans,
The Music Machine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thompson Twins,
Todd Terry,
Eric Copeland,
Erasure,
Juan Atkins,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nico,
Surgeon,
The Cramps,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Residents,
Marmalade,
Technova,
Crime,
The American Breed,
Pet Shop Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dorothy Ashby,
Inner City,
June of 44,
Shuggie Otis,
Tubeway Army,
Rhythm & Sound,
Derrick Morgan,
Alice Coltrane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Tremeloes,
X-Ray Spex,
K-Klass,
New Age Steppers,
Donald Byrd,
Stiv Bators,
Theoretical Girls,
The Angels of Light,
Terry Callier,
New Order,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.