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 Finland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Flesh Eaters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Names. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
The Neon Judgement,
Ituana,
KRS-One,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scott Walker,
Magma,
The Happenings,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Buzzcocks,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Soft Cell,
Con Funk Shun,
Ossler,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nick Fraelich,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Zapp,
The United States of America,
Amazonics,
Robert Hood,
Laurel Aitken,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Icehouse,
Boogie Down Productions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Carl Craig,
Khruangbin,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gories,
The Fire Engines,
Janne Schatter,
Underground Resistance,
the Fania All-Stars,
Procol Harum,
OOIOO,
The Fortunes,
Essential Logic,
Ponytail,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crime,
Silicon Teens,
Iggy Pop,
Davy DMX,
Malaria!,
The Velvet Underground,
10cc,
Marc Almond,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Red Krayola,
Yaz,
Rosa Yemen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
DNA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Schoolly D,
Wasted Youth,
The Names,
E-Dancer,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.