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 China and from Jakarta.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Smiths,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sonny Sharrock,
Janne Schatter,
This Heat,
Peter and Kerry,
Harry Pussy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roxette,
Derrick Morgan,
Reuben Wilson,
Hot Snakes,
Minutemen,
Outsiders,
Marvin Gaye,
X-101,
Sandy B,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Görl,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Robert Wyatt,
Talk Talk,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric B and Rakim,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Skatalites,
Drive Like Jehu,
Underground Resistance,
Gong,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Last Poets,
David Bowie,
Khruangbin,
The Music Machine,
Yellowson,
Pole,
Gerry Rafferty,
Piero Umiliani,
Amon Düül II,
U.S. Maple,
Duran Duran,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Busters,
Deepchord,
F. McDonald,
Black Moon,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Dead C,
Soul II Soul,
Neu!,
Ornette Coleman,
Model 500,
Thee Headcoats,
Cymande,
Black Flag,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.