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 Angola and from Lyon.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the punk 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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
The Red Krayola,
Sam Rivers,
Mark Hollis,
The Moody Blues,
Johnny Clarke,
The Divine Comedy,
Aswad,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ohio Players,
X-Ray Spex,
Mary Jane Girls,
Oneida,
Jeff Mills,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Cybotron,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fall,
The Invisible,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Davy DMX,
X-102,
Yusef Lateef,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sister Nancy,
Scratch Acid,
Kevin Saunderson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Swans,
Cluster,
China Crisis,
John Lydon,
Youth Brigade,
Funkadelic,
The Barracudas,
Nirvana,
H. Thieme,
Malaria!,
Surgeon,
a-ha,
Joy Division,
The Grass Roots,
Bill Near,
Rufus Thomas,
The Stooges,
AZ,
The Leaves,
Alison Limerick,
Slave,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Human League,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
JFA,
The Standells,
The Fire Engines,
Urselle,
Barbara Tucker,
Radio Birdman,
The United States of America,
Subhumans,
Scott Walker,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.