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 Australia and from Bremen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Adolescents to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Lightning Bolt,
Los Fastidios,
Young Marble Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Moby Grape,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
X-101,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sonic Youth,
Oblivians,
Intrusion,
Bang On A Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tomorrow,
Dark Day,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pantaleimon,
the Normal,
Mission of Burma,
Judy Mowatt,
FM Einheit,
Bronski Beat,
James White and The Blacks,
Erasure,
Rosa Yemen,
Robert Görl,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eric Copeland,
A Certain Ratio,
Smog,
Bobby Sherman,
The Buckinghams,
Little Man,
Kurtis Blow,
The Pretty Things,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Sonics,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The American Breed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Swell Maps,
Barbara Tucker,
Soul II Soul,
Lou Reed,
Michelle Simonal,
Desert Stars,
48th St. Collective,
Crime,
Bad Manners,
Albert Ayler,
Black Bananas,
The Shadows of Knight,
Liliput,
Delon & Dalcan,
Altered Images,
Urselle,
Pole,
Grey Daturas,
The Gun Club,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.