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 Colombia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 theremin 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 Neil Young to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Electric Prunes,
The Fugs,
The Electric Prunes,
The Litter,
Simply Red,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cymande,
Graham Central Station,
Buzzcocks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harmonia,
Derrick May,
Lindisfarne,
Guru Guru,
Althea and Donna,
Jesper Dahlback,
A Certain Ratio,
H. Thieme,
The Moleskins,
Fad Gadget,
New Order,
Dave Gahan,
Rekid,
UT,
The Last Poets,
Rapeman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Slick Rick,
The Trojans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Severed Heads,
Cluster,
Warsaw,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pantytec,
Ten City,
Aaron Thompson,
The Grass Roots,
Reagan Youth,
Arthur Verocai,
Ponytail,
Ultravox,
Eric Copeland,
The Music Machine,
Sun City Girls,
Tres Demented,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Talk Talk,
The Evens,
Roy Ayers,
The Angels of Light,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Sonics,
Zapp,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Techniques,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.