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 Guinea-Bissau and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba 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 Colin Newman to the electroclash 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Goldenarms,
Trumans Water,
Don Cherry,
Liliput,
Qualms,
Fluxion,
Jerry's Kids,
Q and Not U,
Pharoah Sanders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dirtbombs,
E-Dancer,
Minny Pops,
The Dead C,
Colin Newman,
Ludus,
Can,
The Wake,
The Divine Comedy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Althea and Donna,
Faraquet,
The Doors,
The Gladiators,
Oneida,
Glenn Branca,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra,
Desert Stars,
Whodini,
One Last Wish,
The Seeds,
Lou Christie,
Bad Manners,
Supertramp,
Bush Tetras,
The Toasters,
Loose Ends,
Little Man,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rhythm & Sound,
Television,
Masters at Work,
Thee Headcoats,
Talk Talk,
The Fuzztones,
Eurythmics,
The Mojo Men,
Flash Fearless,
Theoretical Girls,
Yaz,
Accadde A,
Howard Jones,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultravox,
Sister Nancy,
Lindisfarne,
Ultra Naté,
Chris Corsano,
The Index,
John Holt,
Flipper,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.