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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Public Enemy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
The Zeros,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mr. Review,
Dark Day,
Bob Dylan,
Susan Cadogan,
Cheater Slicks,
Ronnie Foster,
The Velvet Underground,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Move,
Inner City,
John Coltrane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joe Finger,
Section 25,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Holt,
Joyce Sims,
Blake Baxter,
The Electric Prunes,
Babytalk,
Ken Boothe,
Soul II Soul,
The Evens,
Nation of Ulysses,
Laurel Aitken,
The Music Machine,
Average White Band,
The Slackers,
Visage,
Swans,
Livin' Joy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fat Boys,
The Saints,
Matthew Halsall,
The Human League,
The Invisible,
Eddi Front,
Jimmy McGriff,
Hoover,
Charles Mingus,
Ponytail,
Tim Buckley,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
Interpol,
X-Ray Spex,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Sister Nancy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Flag,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.