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 Moldova and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the disco 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Heaven 17,
Electric Prunes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minny Pops,
Bluetip,
Inner City,
Juan Atkins,
Davy DMX,
Hardrive,
The Motions,
Stereo Dub,
Flipper,
X-101,
Q65,
Jeru the Damaja,
In Retrospect,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dawn Penn,
The Buckinghams,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Standells,
Funkadelic,
Nik Kershaw,
Warren Ellis,
T.S.O.L.,
Boz Scaggs,
The Velvet Underground,
ABC,
Tubeway Army,
This Heat,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blackbyrds,
Public Enemy,
Model 500,
Eric Dolphy,
Oblivians,
H. Thieme,
Big Daddy Kane,
Blossom Toes,
Pylon,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Foxx,
The Walker Brothers,
Roxy Music,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Urselle,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Radiohead,
Matthew Bourne,
Sun Ra,
The Barracudas,
Interpol,
Second Layer,
T. Rex,
Brass Construction,
Boogie Down Productions,
Laurel Aitken,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.