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 Sri Lanka and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mummies to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Babytalk,
Sex Pistols,
H. Thieme,
Crooked Eye,
Aloha Tigers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bauhaus,
Nas,
The Last Poets,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suburban Knight,
Minutemen,
James White and The Blacks,
Deadbeat,
Harry Pussy,
Don Cherry,
Jerry's Kids,
Andrew Hill,
cv313,
Rod Modell,
The Happenings,
The Busters,
Absolute Body Control,
Ossler,
Wally Richardson,
Ituana,
Connie Case,
Freddie Wadling,
Infiniti,
Groovy Waters,
Faraquet,
China Crisis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Talk Talk,
Dawn Penn,
Mr. Review,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Human League,
Joy Division,
Althea and Donna,
Kerrie Biddell,
David McCallum,
Ludus,
The Black Dice,
Fluxion,
Radio Birdman,
Youth Brigade,
Matthew Bourne,
T. Rex,
Soft Cell,
Popol Vuh,
Technova,
John Foxx,
Main Source,
The Sonics,
Donald Byrd,
Mission of Burma,
The J.B.'s,
a-ha,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.