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 Zimbabwe 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 Stockholm Monsters to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Radiohead,
Archie Shepp,
The Velvet Underground,
Panda Bear,
Toni Rubio,
The Saints,
The Moleskins,
Shoche,
The J.B.'s,
John Holt,
Cal Tjader,
Pole,
One Last Wish,
Banda Bassotti,
Howard Jones,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Skarface,
Radio Birdman,
Motorama,
The Human League,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Heaven 17,
Gang Green,
FM Einheit,
Rotary Connection,
The Tremeloes,
Unwound,
The Offenders,
Alphaville,
Kerri Chandler,
Absolute Body Control,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Monks,
Newcleus,
Pagans,
Black Flag,
Tears for Fears,
Soul Sonic Force,
U.S. Maple,
cv313,
Blossom Toes,
Scratch Acid,
Whodini,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Index,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Angels of Light,
Arthur Verocai,
Reagan Youth,
Deepchord,
Television Personalities,
Rosa Yemen,
The Sonics,
Johnny Clarke,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Sällskapet,
The Golliwogs,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.