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 Mexico and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Make Up to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Tears for Fears,
Man Parrish,
Gabor Szabo,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Star Department,
Massinfluence,
Robert Wyatt,
Sällskapet,
the Normal,
The Beau Brummels,
Animal Collective,
DNA,
Angry Samoans,
OOIOO,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scratch Acid,
Underground Resistance,
Grauzone,
Gerry Rafferty,
Leonard Cohen,
U.S. Maple,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
ABC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Doors,
Pulsallama,
Franke,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Kinks,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Toasters,
Cybotron,
The Human League,
Rekid,
Aloha Tigers,
Eli Mardock,
Amazonics,
The Index,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Cramps,
Magma,
Liliput,
Adolescents,
Moebius,
Pantaleimon,
The Slackers,
Camberwell Now,
Donald Byrd,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Glenn Branca,
Sam Rivers,
Anthony Braxton,
Average White Band,
Von Mondo,
Swell Maps,
Joensuu 1685,
Cheater Slicks,
Guru Guru,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.