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 Armenia and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Guru Guru to the funk 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Johnny Clarke,
Zero Boys,
Bob Dylan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Red Krayola,
John Cale,
Maleditus Sound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tom Boy,
Q and Not U,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Barracudas,
Icehouse,
X-102,
Sixth Finger,
Japan,
Can,
Oblivians,
Aural Exciters,
Camouflage,
The Standells,
Agitation Free,
Todd Rundgren,
The Pretty Things,
The Dead C,
The Martian,
Inner City,
Iggy Pop,
Pole,
Judy Mowatt,
Minny Pops,
Scott Walker,
Chrome,
A Certain Ratio,
B.T. Express,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Sound,
Ronan,
H. Thieme,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minor Threat,
Duran Duran,
Susan Cadogan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Germs,
Hoover,
Janne Schatter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.