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 Tajikistan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 China Crisis to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Marine Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Tubeway Army,
Sparks,
The Fall,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Slits,
The Index,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Babytalk,
The Leaves,
Yellowson,
Popol Vuh,
Jawbox,
James White and The Blacks,
Tommy Roe,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Cal Tjader,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Intrusion,
Big Daddy Kane,
Metal Thangz,
Lakeside,
The Mummies,
Deadbeat,
Roxy Music,
Gregory Isaacs,
Isaac Hayes,
The Skatalites,
Drexciya,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roy Ayers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vladislav Delay,
Mr. Review,
Blossom Toes,
Nik Kershaw,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
MDC,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Near,
The Grass Roots,
Eric B and Rakim,
Patti Smith,
Easy Going,
Colin Newman,
the Sonics,
The Fortunes,
X-101,
Liliput,
Kaleidoscope,
Index,
Wolf Eyes,
Oblivians,
Todd Rundgren,
The Modern Lovers,
Little Man,
Dawn Penn,
Moss Icon,
The Mojo Men,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.