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 Azerbaijan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The United States of America 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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Avey Tare,
Au Pairs,
Mad Mike,
Cybotron,
Brand Nubian,
Swans,
Yazoo,
Trumans Water,
Albert Ayler,
Buzzcocks,
Camouflage,
Amon Düül II,
8 Eyed Spy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
DJ Sneak,
The Toasters,
F. McDonald,
Cluster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rosa Yemen,
This Heat,
Gang Starr,
Fear,
The Move,
Country Teasers,
Kaleidoscope,
Hardrive,
Nas,
John Foxx,
Byron Stingily,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blackbyrds,
The Grass Roots,
Silicon Teens,
Erykah Badu,
Joe Smooth,
Suburban Knight,
Accadde A,
Talk Talk,
Y Pants,
Godley & Creme,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Youth Brigade,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bang On A Can,
Jeff Mills,
Lungfish,
Whodini,
Grey Daturas,
The Motions,
Aural Exciters,
Eric Dolphy,
Smog,
Von Mondo,
David Axelrod,
Darondo,
The Monochrome Set,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.