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 Turkey and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mandrill to the grunge 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
the Germs,
Maurizio,
Gang of Four,
Marine Girls,
KRS-One,
Crispy Ambulance,
Grey Daturas,
Scratch Acid,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxette,
Fatback Band,
Tomorrow,
Chris Corsano,
The Slackers,
Pagans,
Unrelated Segments,
June of 44,
One Last Wish,
Lyres,
Howard Jones,
Joyce Sims,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ten City,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Gap Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soulsonic Force,
Man Parrish,
Radio Birdman,
China Crisis,
Television,
Pantytec,
Eli Mardock,
Slick Rick,
Blake Baxter,
Lou Christie,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
The Busters,
L. Decosne,
Moebius,
New Age Steppers,
The Count Five,
Donny Hathaway,
Colin Newman,
The Barracudas,
Anakelly,
Ludus,
Country Teasers,
UT,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pussy Galore,
Reuben Wilson,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Starr,
Minnie Riperton,
Robert Wyatt,
John Coltrane,
D'Angelo,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.