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 Bolivia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
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 mellotron 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 Andrew Hill to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soulsonic Force,
Lou Reed,
Crime,
Motorama,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Fortunes,
The Gladiators,
Joe Smooth,
Roxette,
Pagans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cowsills,
Organ,
Ultra Naté,
Inner City,
Moebius,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Slits,
Zapp,
Faust,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Byron Stingily,
PIL,
June of 44,
Infiniti,
Yellowson,
The Misunderstood,
A Certain Ratio,
Warren Ellis,
Lightning Bolt,
E-Dancer,
The Litter,
Maleditus Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Visage,
Black Flag,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
X-Ray Spex,
the Swans,
Adolescents,
Tim Buckley,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kevin Saunderson,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Dirtbombs,
Rapeman,
Fad Gadget,
Pole,
The Skatalites,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ten City,
Pantaleimon,
Reuben Wilson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Das Ding,
Saccharine Trust,
Blancmange,
MC5,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Teasers,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.