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 Brunei and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum 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 Scion to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Amon Düül II,
The Barracudas,
E-Dancer,
Rosa Yemen,
B.T. Express,
Peter and Kerry,
Erasure,
Simply Red,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Real Kids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cramps,
Wings,
The Kinks,
The Happenings,
The Slackers,
the Soft Cell,
The Smoke,
Liliput,
The Electric Prunes,
the Slits,
Marine Girls,
Smog,
The Martian,
Youth Brigade,
Japan,
Kaleidoscope,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Grey Daturas,
Zero Boys,
The Gladiators,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roy Ayers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Heaven 17,
Matthew Halsall,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kas Product,
Hashim,
Jeff Mills,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
Camberwell Now,
Eddi Front,
Glambeats Corp.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Slick Rick,
Roxette,
Cal Tjader,
Michelle Simonal,
Excepter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sugar Minott,
Stiv Bators,
Camouflage,
Scion,
H. Thieme,
The Star Department,
Trumans Water,
Sun City Girls,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.