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 Zambia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 H. Thieme to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
The Fire Engines,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
Chris Corsano,
Howard Jones,
Deepchord,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Au Pairs,
The United States of America,
Henry Cow,
The Shadows of Knight,
Public Image Ltd.,
Black Pus,
Mr. Review,
June Days,
Tom Boy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Birthday Party,
Massinfluence,
Johnny Clarke,
Soul Sonic Force,
Supertramp,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Josef K,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
DJ Sneak,
Cheater Slicks,
Suicide,
Nik Kershaw,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Stiv Bators,
Wasted Youth,
Magazine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Byron Stingily,
Interpol,
Nas,
Alice Coltrane,
Bill Near,
The Techniques,
Gichy Dan,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül II,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Kinks,
Rufus Thomas,
CMW,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Derrick Morgan,
Swans,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.