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 New Zealand and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 oboe 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 Sällskapet 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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Grauzone,
Audionom,
Freddie Wadling,
The Black Dice,
Yazoo,
Grey Daturas,
H. Thieme,
The American Breed,
Soft Cell,
The Fortunes,
DNA,
Parry Music,
Althea and Donna,
Franke,
The Beau Brummels,
ABC,
Warren Ellis,
Yellowson,
L. Decosne,
Tears for Fears,
Monolake,
Bronski Beat,
Trumans Water,
Carl Craig,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Livin' Joy,
Jeff Mills,
John Lydon,
Matthew Bourne,
LL Cool J,
the Slits,
Ronnie Foster,
Underground Resistance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Basic Channel,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ultra Naté,
Joyce Sims,
Gabor Szabo,
Harry Pussy,
The Selecter,
Pantytec,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Prince Buster,
Arab on Radar,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Clarke,
Ornette Coleman,
The Searchers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Banda Bassotti,
Buzzcocks,
Rekid,
The Pop Group,
Quantec,
PIL,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.