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 Iraq and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Minutemen,
Mantronix,
Silicon Teens,
Television,
Bad Manners,
The Invisible,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Shoche,
Chrome,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Byron Stingily,
X-101,
Eurythmics,
Black Bananas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Skatalites,
Rufus Thomas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Young Rascals,
The Stooges,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Letta Mbulu,
Supertramp,
The Moody Blues,
Bill Near,
Peter & Gordon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
ABC,
Derrick Morgan,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lucky Dragons,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Görl,
Aural Exciters,
Althea and Donna,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gang of Four,
Thompson Twins,
Urselle,
Moby Grape,
Laurel Aitken,
Maurizio,
James White and The Blacks,
The Durutti Column,
Dawn Penn,
The Fugs,
Easy Going,
Sarah Menescal,
Piero Umiliani,
Tim Buckley,
Josef K,
The Leaves,
Terry Callier,
Marmalade,
Swans,
Masters at Work,
Index,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.