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 Sweden and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Colin Newman to the funk 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Harry Pussy,
Archie Shepp,
Terrestrial Tones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bronski Beat,
The Fugs,
Zapp,
Lalann,
Smog,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Smiths,
Pagans,
Grauzone,
Susan Cadogan,
Royal Trux,
Donald Byrd,
Iggy Pop,
Skarface,
JFA,
the Fania All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
Severed Heads,
The Fortunes,
Niagra,
Quando Quango,
Scratch Acid,
Essential Logic,
Whodini,
Minor Threat,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jesper Dahlback,
Magazine,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tommy Roe,
Buzzcocks,
John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Piero Umiliani,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick Morgan,
Jawbox,
Circle Jerks,
Alison Limerick,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Busters,
Robert Wyatt,
The Five Americans,
Kas Product,
Minutemen,
Altered Images,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Walker Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
The American Breed,
Hardrive,
B.T. Express,
Parry Music,
Desert Stars,
Jacob Miller,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.