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 the UAE and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 the Soft Cell to the techno 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Litter,
Echospace,
The Cowsills,
Electric Prunes,
The New Christs,
Rufus Thomas,
The Seeds,
The Dirtbombs,
the Sonics,
Traffic Nightmare,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Television,
Brand Nubian,
Clear Light,
The Names,
Bang On A Can,
Icehouse,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fluxion,
Todd Terry,
Wire,
Lee Hazlewood,
Quadrant,
Public Image Ltd.,
Model 500,
Bobby Womack,
David Bowie,
This Heat,
Marshall Jefferson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Blancmange,
OOIOO,
The Remains,
The Mojo Men,
Rhythm & Sound,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Index,
The Mummies,
Slave,
Bobby Sherman,
Monolake,
New Age Steppers,
Amazonics,
Subhumans,
Shoche,
The Barracudas,
Matthew Bourne,
Monks,
the Normal,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dave Gahan,
Johnny Clarke,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ultravox,
Alison Limerick,
Eden Ahbez,
48th St. Collective,
Scientists,
Franke,
Basic Channel,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.