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 South Africa and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba 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 Icehouse to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Jesus and Mary Chain record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
X-101,
Roxette,
Malaria!,
Roy Ayers,
U.S. Maple,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dennis Brown,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Delta 5,
Buzzcocks,
Kayak,
Donny Hathaway,
Byron Stingily,
Q and Not U,
The Searchers,
Unwound,
Quando Quango,
Glambeats Corp.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bang On A Can,
Sandy B,
Nirvana,
Procol Harum,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Qualms,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Womack,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Victims,
Eden Ahbez,
The Modern Lovers,
Wally Richardson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Drexciya,
Gang Green,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Panda Bear,
Laurel Aitken,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Residents,
Sarah Menescal,
The Sound,
Massinfluence,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Janne Schatter,
10cc,
Faraquet,
Ultra Naté,
Terry Callier,
Suicide,
Roxy Music,
Essential Logic,
The Velvet Underground,
The Buckinghams,
Shuggie Otis,
Organ,
Ten City,
Johnny Clarke,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.