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 Lithuania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 the Sonics to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Popol Vuh,
Mad Mike,
Porter Ricks,
Albert Ayler,
The Human League,
Young Marble Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
Letta Mbulu,
Tim Buckley,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Kinks,
Television Personalities,
The Move,
Glenn Branca,
Terrestrial Tones,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Velvet Underground,
Howard Jones,
The Index,
Dual Sessions,
Ronan,
Yellowson,
Black Sheep,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gabor Szabo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rites of Spring,
Black Moon,
Johnny Clarke,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Traffic Nightmare,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Country Teasers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cal Tjader,
Lyres,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
L. Decosne,
Brothers Johnson,
Moss Icon,
Nas,
Talk Talk,
Suicide,
Joyce Sims,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tomorrow,
Leonard Cohen,
Electric Prunes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Slave,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tears for Fears,
Motorama,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.