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 Salvador.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 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 Organ to the rock 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
MC5,
Arthur Verocai,
Fat Boys,
Bluetip,
The Cramps,
Flipper,
The Doors,
The Fire Engines,
The Knickerbockers,
Fugazi,
Tubeway Army,
Eurythmics,
The Dead C,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marshall Jefferson,
Das Ding,
Japan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Alice Coltrane,
Visage,
Skarface,
The Mojo Men,
The Searchers,
Mark Hollis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
Basic Channel,
Gabor Szabo,
Aswad,
Angry Samoans,
Cheater Slicks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Traffic Nightmare,
Darondo,
The Raincoats,
Aloha Tigers,
Jimmy McGriff,
These Immortal Souls,
The Monks,
Dark Day,
James White and The Blacks,
Accadde A,
Yaz,
Gang Starr,
Davy DMX,
Neil Young,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kenny Larkin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barry Ungar,
Connie Case,
Radio Birdman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mo-Dettes,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.