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 Estonia and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Amon Düül to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
Swans,
Aural Exciters,
Deepchord,
Theoretical Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Bananas,
Ludus,
Zapp,
James White and The Blacks,
Michelle Simonal,
June of 44,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Residents,
Bootsy Collins,
Das Ding,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Roger Hodgson,
Buzzcocks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Stooges,
Faust,
Todd Terry,
The American Breed,
Amon Düül,
Soul II Soul,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Monks,
Intrusion,
Dead Boys,
Anthony Braxton,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rufus Thomas,
Panda Bear,
Barrington Levy,
The Selecter,
Marc Almond,
MC5,
The Fire Engines,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Babytalk,
The Sonics,
Cal Tjader,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Pop Group,
Nik Kershaw,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Reuben Wilson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joe Finger,
The Mojo Men,
Eric Copeland,
Interpol,
Mr. Review,
Erasure,
The Searchers,
Terry Callier,
The Black Dice,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.