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 Comoros and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gerry Rafferty to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang Green,
Unwound,
Liliput,
Audionom,
Lebanon Hanover,
Desert Stars,
Los Fastidios,
The Tremeloes,
Groovy Waters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Man Parrish,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr,
Interpol,
Janne Schatter,
John Coltrane,
Rakim,
Rod Modell,
T. Rex,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Motions,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Zapp,
Derrick May,
The Remains,
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
Avey Tare,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
Graham Central Station,
Urselle,
Roxette,
John Holt,
Panda Bear,
Quantec,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Guru Guru,
James White and The Blacks,
Minny Pops,
The Slits,
Susan Cadogan,
The Barracudas,
Scientists,
The Walker Brothers,
E-Dancer,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Normal,
Kenny Larkin,
Pantaleimon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skaos,
Ornette Coleman,
Hardrive,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.