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 Maldives and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Nas to the grunge 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
The Alarm Clocks,
Interpol,
Donny Hathaway,
Camberwell Now,
The Monochrome Set,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Unwound,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Unrelated Segments,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dead C,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Duran Duran,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marine Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Slave,
Charles Mingus,
Roxette,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
MC5,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
Suburban Knight,
Faraquet,
Country Teasers,
Reagan Youth,
Nico,
Boz Scaggs,
The Raincoats,
Sun City Girls,
Toni Rubio,
Bill Near,
The Young Rascals,
Isaac Hayes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ice-T,
Rosa Yemen,
Lower 48,
Bauhaus,
Harry Pussy,
Scion,
Avey Tare,
Zero Boys,
Monks,
Supertramp,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tears for Fears,
Slick Rick,
Dennis Brown,
Yellowson,
Whodini,
Michelle Simonal,
Blancmange,
Curtis Mayfield,
Guru Guru,
Khruangbin,
Rod Modell,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.