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 Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Urselle to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Donny Hathaway,
Maleditus Sound,
Adolescents,
The Searchers,
Henry Cow,
The Blues Magoos,
Basic Channel,
EPMD,
Yellowson,
Minor Threat,
Jesper Dahlback,
Donald Byrd,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Talk Talk,
the Bar-Kays,
Arthur Verocai,
F. McDonald,
Moebius,
The Red Krayola,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Young Rascals,
Chris & Cosey,
The Victims,
UT,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Barry Ungar,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Soft Cell,
Arab on Radar,
Crooked Eye,
John Lydon,
The Residents,
Quadrant,
Ohio Players,
Minnie Riperton,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Prince Buster,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fatback Band,
Andrew Hill,
Thompson Twins,
H. Thieme,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Leaves,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wings,
Subhumans,
The Birthday Party,
The Slackers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stereo Dub,
Das Ding,
Cameo,
PIL,
Steve Hackett,
Amazonics,
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.