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 Eritrea and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dark Day to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
The Count Five,
T.S.O.L.,
Derrick Morgan,
Albert Ayler,
Kayak,
Y Pants,
Pylon,
Ohio Players,
Tim Buckley,
Traffic Nightmare,
David McCallum,
Pussy Galore,
The Tremeloes,
ABBA,
Zapp,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moebius,
The Real Kids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fortunes,
Carl Craig,
Crooked Eye,
Cal Tjader,
48th St. Collective,
Avey Tare,
Kas Product,
Lalann,
The Barracudas,
The Remains,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chrome,
The Young Rascals,
The Sonics,
One Last Wish,
Black Flag,
Accadde A,
Flipper,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Divine Comedy,
The Slits,
Bob Dylan,
China Crisis,
Robert Hood,
Radiohead,
Terry Callier,
World's Most,
Pantytec,
Visage,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Joe Finger,
Monolake,
Surgeon,
Barbara Tucker,
PIL,
Ponytail,
The Raincoats,
Harry Pussy,
Bluetip,
Freddie Wadling,
Outsiders,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.