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 Bahamas and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the disco 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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
The Doors,
Accadde A,
Deepchord,
Neu!,
John Lydon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nils Olav,
Chris Corsano,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Alice Coltrane,
Aaron Thompson,
Model 500,
Girls At Our Best!,
Inner City,
Pantaleimon,
The Techniques,
Lalann,
Wire,
Bizarre Inc.,
Alison Limerick,
Banda Bassotti,
Sonny Sharrock,
EPMD,
Johnny Clarke,
Peter & Gordon,
Pulsallama,
Brothers Johnson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ultravox,
Whodini,
Hardrive,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gories,
Pussy Galore,
Marine Girls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scientists,
Eric Copeland,
Tommy Roe,
Gerry Rafferty,
Junior Murvin,
L. Decosne,
John Cale,
Shoche,
Althea and Donna,
Matthew Bourne,
Frankie Knuckles,
Darondo,
Mo-Dettes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Davy DMX,
Amon Düül II,
Lungfish,
Letta Mbulu,
The New Christs,
Hot Snakes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rakim,
Lower 48,
Skaos,
Organ,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.