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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar 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 Sight & Sound to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Mr. Review,
The Beau Brummels,
Das Ding,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Sheep,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Man Parrish,
Nation of Ulysses,
Deakin,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sound,
David Axelrod,
Popol Vuh,
Wasted Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
The Kinks,
Organ,
Tres Demented,
June of 44,
Funkadelic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Barclay James Harvest,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cymande,
Minutemen,
The Gun Club,
Patti Smith,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fela Kuti,
Steve Hackett,
Scrapy,
Bob Dylan,
Eli Mardock,
Gong,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jeff Lynne,
Main Source,
Max Romeo,
Pierre Henry,
Whodini,
The Birthday Party,
Gang of Four,
Sam Rivers,
Surgeon,
Marvin Gaye,
Davy DMX,
Stereo Dub,
The Litter,
Au Pairs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Depeche Mode,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Fire Engines,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Monks,
Robert Görl,
The Move,
Piero Umiliani,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.