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 Iceland and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Lee Hazlewood to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Evens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Fatback Band,
Schoolly D,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Hashim,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Enemy,
Nico,
Danielle Patucci,
Wasted Youth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gabor Szabo,
Radiohead,
Fela Kuti,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Pus,
Ponytail,
Kevin Saunderson,
Soft Cell,
The Skatalites,
Talk Talk,
The Beau Brummels,
KRS-One,
The Monochrome Set,
Babytalk,
Joe Finger,
Young Marble Giants,
Marmalade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mission of Burma,
Little Man,
Mo-Dettes,
Eden Ahbez,
The Kinks,
Kayak,
David Bowie,
The Saints,
Pussy Galore,
Index,
Surgeon,
Jacques Brel,
Slave,
Lou Reed,
Minny Pops,
The Dirtbombs,
Ten City,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Association,
The Star Department,
Aaron Thompson,
Flipper,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Mojo Men,
Pylon,
Marc Almond,
Joyce Sims,
Alphaville,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.