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 Haiti and from Hong Kong.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer 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 Y Pants to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Robert Hood,
The Fall,
Cymande,
ABBA,
The Fuzztones,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Christie,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scientists,
Mission of Burma,
Crispian St. Peters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Blancmange,
The Count Five,
Darondo,
Underground Resistance,
Audionom,
The Durutti Column,
Hasil Adkins,
Monolake,
Judy Mowatt,
Fugazi,
Infiniti,
Pagans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
EPMD,
Surgeon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Associates,
The Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Arab on Radar,
The Pretty Things,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Panda Bear,
Harry Pussy,
Ossler,
Oblivians,
Icehouse,
The Star Department,
Q65,
Brothers Johnson,
the Swans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Yaz,
Robert Görl,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Five Americans,
Electric Prunes,
AZ,
Sarah Menescal,
Amon Düül,
Agent Orange,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.