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 Ghana and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The New Christs to the crunk 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Michelle Simonal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
The Mummies,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mary Jane Girls,
Country Teasers,
Schoolly D,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
These Immortal Souls,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ronan,
Leonard Cohen,
Smog,
Ten City,
Rakim,
Judy Mowatt,
Brick,
Gong,
Girls At Our Best!,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Agent Orange,
Aswad,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sister Nancy,
The Slits,
Freddie Wadling,
Fluxion,
Lou Christie,
Graham Central Station,
T.S.O.L.,
Japan,
Amon Düül,
Yusef Lateef,
Minor Threat,
Dark Day,
Radiopuhelimet,
Young Marble Giants,
Bush Tetras,
Warsaw,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobby Womack,
Silicon Teens,
Bill Near,
Surgeon,
The Blues Magoos,
Matthew Bourne,
Simply Red,
Skaos,
The Pretty Things,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Blackbyrds,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Invisible,
Excepter,
The Smiths,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Music Machine,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.