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 Philippines and from Lyon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Busters,
Animal Collective,
Slick Rick,
The Smiths,
The Fall,
The Martian,
Metal Thangz,
La Düsseldorf,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Brass Construction,
Radio Birdman,
Arcadia,
The Invisible,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lindisfarne,
Scan 7,
Talk Talk,
Zero Boys,
The American Breed,
Nils Olav,
B.T. Express,
The Divine Comedy,
Leonard Cohen,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sandy B,
The Blackbyrds,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dark Day,
Aaron Thompson,
Crooked Eye,
Technova,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Wake,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Joe Smooth,
Agent Orange,
Buzzcocks,
Iggy Pop,
Peter & Gordon,
Piero Umiliani,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Boredoms,
Pere Ubu,
Man Eating Sloth,
MC5,
Organ,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kayak,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Half Japanese,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ken Boothe,
This Heat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
Urselle,
The Seeds,
Ten City,
Monks,
The Index,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.