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 Bosnia Herzegovina 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Johnny Clarke to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crime,
PIL,
Royal Trux,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Evens,
Lakeside,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harry Pussy,
Jeff Lynne,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Glenn Branca,
Don Cherry,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mantronix,
Gang Green,
Sällskapet,
The Toasters,
Faraquet,
the Normal,
The Angels of Light,
Massinfluence,
ABBA,
Von Mondo,
The Last Poets,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Negative Approach,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Henry Cow,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mars,
Outsiders,
The Move,
Brass Construction,
Danielle Patucci,
The Mojo Men,
The Durutti Column,
Mr. Review,
Peter and Kerry,
the Human League,
Monks,
Tres Demented,
Angry Samoans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Accadde A,
Warsaw,
AZ,
E-Dancer,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Shoche,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bootsy Collins,
Eddi Front,
Can,
the Sonics,
Monolake,
The Victims,
Loose Ends,
Main Source,
Dorothy Ashby,
Urselle,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.