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 Lesotho and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
L. Decosne,
Pylon,
Althea and Donna,
PIL,
The Associates,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pulsallama,
The Leaves,
Matthew Bourne,
The Evens,
X-Ray Spex,
Rod Modell,
Mission of Burma,
Babytalk,
Blake Baxter,
Youth Brigade,
Niagra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gang Gang Dance,
Khruangbin,
Parry Music,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camouflage,
Be Bop Deluxe,
X-101,
The Kinks,
Unrelated Segments,
The Sound,
Adolescents,
Todd Terry,
Kool Moe Dee,
Masters at Work,
Kerri Chandler,
New Age Steppers,
the Slits,
Swans,
Barry Ungar,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric Dolphy,
Eve St. Jones,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Symarip,
Al Stewart,
Thompson Twins,
Sällskapet,
Sandy B,
Nation of Ulysses,
Robert Görl,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nils Olav,
Icehouse,
Slave,
Bauhaus,
The Doors,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sun Ra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Das Ding,
Chris Corsano,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.