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 Tajikistan and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sarah Menescal to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Slits,
The Velvet Underground,
The Smoke,
Duran Duran,
The Dave Clark Five,
Fela Kuti,
Traffic Nightmare,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soft Cell,
OOIOO,
Pulsallama,
Kerri Chandler,
E-Dancer,
Archie Shepp,
The Move,
Jacques Brel,
The Shadows of Knight,
Flipper,
Black Moon,
Motorama,
Severed Heads,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Camouflage,
Fugazi,
Ossler,
Eric Copeland,
The Walker Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joey Negro,
Max Romeo,
X-Ray Spex,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rekid,
Au Pairs,
Maurizio,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
U.S. Maple,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Connie Case,
Absolute Body Control,
La Düsseldorf,
Swell Maps,
The Martian,
T.S.O.L.,
The Slackers,
Scientists,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slave,
Radiohead,
Minor Threat,
Dual Sessions,
Newcleus,
Alphaville,
Sixth Finger,
Thee Headcoats,
cv313,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.