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 Greece and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Black Bananas,
Sonic Youth,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jawbox,
The Names,
Lindisfarne,
Yusef Lateef,
Lee Hazlewood,
Masters at Work,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tommy Roe,
The Fall,
Colin Newman,
Bluetip,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
U.S. Maple,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Spandau Ballet,
Gichy Dan,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Five Americans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nick Fraelich,
Index,
Fugazi,
Letta Mbulu,
Aaron Thompson,
Gabor Szabo,
Eddi Front,
Negative Approach,
Vladislav Delay,
the Association,
Chris & Cosey,
Icehouse,
Sarah Menescal,
Neu!,
Henry Cow,
Carl Craig,
Deakin,
Lower 48,
Al Stewart,
Faraquet,
The Selecter,
Alton Ellis,
The Gories,
Sun Ra,
David Bowie,
Piero Umiliani,
Swell Maps,
Stetsasonic,
Underground Resistance,
The Techniques,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dennis Brown,
Circle Jerks,
The Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan.
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.