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 Slovakia and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Brand Nubian to the rock 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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
The Smoke,
Mo-Dettes,
Visage,
Deadbeat,
Ornette Coleman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Electric Prunes,
CMW,
The Happenings,
Arab on Radar,
The Music Machine,
Archie Shepp,
Albert Ayler,
Young Marble Giants,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Blues Magoos,
Andrew Hill,
Saccharine Trust,
Eve St. Jones,
Brothers Johnson,
Bobby Womack,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Malaria!,
Subhumans,
Henry Cow,
ABC,
Mad Mike,
Davy DMX,
The Count Five,
Excepter,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Toasters,
Ten City,
Tropical Tobacco,
Buzzcocks,
Drexciya,
Joe Finger,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mandrill,
EPMD,
Camberwell Now,
Kurtis Blow,
John Coltrane,
Shoche,
Skaos,
Dave Gahan,
Roger Hodgson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Lynne,
Wire,
Pantytec,
Josef K,
Sixth Finger,
Dual Sessions,
Throbbing Gristle,
Echospace,
The Associates,
Eurythmics,
The Gap Band,
The Slackers,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.