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 Saudi Arabia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Michael McDonald 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 Scratch Acid to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Aswad,
Goldenarms,
The Raincoats,
Pole,
Anakelly,
F. McDonald,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Bar-Kays,
John Holt,
Grey Daturas,
Buzzcocks,
Pantytec,
Sparks,
The Cure,
Arthur Verocai,
R.M.O.,
Icehouse,
Boredoms,
Lou Christie,
Japan,
the Normal,
Gang Starr,
Con Funk Shun,
Bush Tetras,
Talk Talk,
Duran Duran,
Jacob Miller,
The Litter,
Nick Fraelich,
Jerry's Kids,
Joyce Sims,
Ohio Players,
Funkadelic,
Organ,
Kaleidoscope,
Spoonie Gee,
K-Klass,
Be Bop Deluxe,
a-ha,
U.S. Maple,
The Barracudas,
Davy DMX,
Bobby Womack,
David Axelrod,
Ponytail,
Vainqueur,
Matthew Bourne,
Gerry Rafferty,
Brand Nubian,
Fad Gadget,
Camouflage,
David McCallum,
Excepter,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Hardrive,
Kerri Chandler,
Scratch Acid,
The United States of America,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric Dolphy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.