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 Bhutan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Detroit Cobras to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Prince Buster,
The Cowsills,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Starr,
E-Dancer,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The New Christs,
The Doors,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Albert Ayler,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Peter & Gordon,
Tres Demented,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Glenn Branca,
Darondo,
Ice-T,
Joyce Sims,
Circle Jerks,
Jawbox,
Bauhaus,
Black Moon,
Camberwell Now,
Lou Christie,
Johnny Osbourne,
Magma,
The Misunderstood,
Leonard Cohen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Index,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wings,
Reuben Wilson,
Young Marble Giants,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
Newcleus,
Technova,
Agitation Free,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kas Product,
Idris Muhammad,
The Young Rascals,
Surgeon,
L. Decosne,
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tears for Fears,
Cheater Slicks,
Pussy Galore,
Joensuu 1685,
Urselle,
Funky Four + One,
X-Ray Spex,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.