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 Latvia and from Hong Kong.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Procol Harum to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
A Flock of Seagulls,
kango's stein massive,
48th St. Collective,
Joe Finger,
Slick Rick,
Banda Bassotti,
Howard Jones,
Laurel Aitken,
H. Thieme,
Matthew Halsall,
The Birthday Party,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eric Copeland,
Nico,
Darondo,
Malaria!,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jandek,
The Vogues,
Harry Pussy,
Joyce Sims,
Dave Gahan,
B.T. Express,
The Buckinghams,
Kayak,
The Fire Engines,
cv313,
Gerry Rafferty,
Godley & Creme,
Tears for Fears,
Hot Snakes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fatback Band,
MDC,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Yusef Lateef,
Wire,
Theoretical Girls,
the Association,
OOIOO,
Anakelly,
The Offenders,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cluster,
Dorothy Ashby,
Boogie Down Productions,
AZ,
The Martian,
a-ha,
Main Source,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Fania All-Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Delon & Dalcan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.