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 Kazakhstan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum 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 Severed Heads to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jawbox,
Roy Ayers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Quantec,
Black Bananas,
World's Most,
Q65,
The Fugs,
Maurizio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Funky Four + One,
Scrapy,
John Lydon,
Easy Going,
Bobby Womack,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cowsills,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Darondo,
X-Ray Spex,
Sister Nancy,
Camberwell Now,
Faust,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anakelly,
Hardrive,
Eli Mardock,
Surgeon,
Skarface,
Barry Ungar,
Nils Olav,
Warsaw,
Erykah Badu,
The Busters,
The Real Kids,
UT,
Bluetip,
Michelle Simonal,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lucky Dragons,
Moby Grape,
Bronski Beat,
Barbara Tucker,
Bill Near,
The Misunderstood,
Deepchord,
Sixth Finger,
Josef K,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronnie Foster,
Minnie Riperton,
Tres Demented,
Tom Boy,
Duran Duran,
Amazonics,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.