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 China and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ 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 Index 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?
Junior Murvin,
Don Cherry,
Agent Orange,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Franke,
Arthur Verocai,
Jerry's Kids,
Inner City,
Marvin Gaye,
The Remains,
Oneida,
Rapeman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Trumans Water,
Whodini,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moby Grape,
The Barracudas,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
The Gladiators,
Joe Smooth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wally Richardson,
Thee Headcoats,
The Sisters of Mercy,
a-ha,
Little Man,
Unrelated Segments,
Ponytail,
Basic Channel,
Motorama,
Bob Dylan,
Lower 48,
Intrusion,
Eve St. Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Procol Harum,
The Mojo Men,
Deakin,
Derrick May,
The Blues Magoos,
Excepter,
Agitation Free,
Young Marble Giants,
Anakelly,
The Stooges,
Kurtis Blow,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lightning Bolt,
Henry Cow,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
The Moleskins,
Funky Four + One,
The Divine Comedy,
The Happenings,
Rites of Spring,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.