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 Slovakia and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the grime 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All MC5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo 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?
Dead Boys,
Reuben Wilson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Amon Düül,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scan 7,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Country Teasers,
Lyres,
Slick Rick,
Brothers Johnson,
Eve St. Jones,
Excepter,
The Evens,
Crooked Eye,
The Flesh Eaters,
One Last Wish,
Neu!,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Saints,
Swell Maps,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Walker Brothers,
Warsaw,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gabor Szabo,
Radio Birdman,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Flag,
The Monks,
Babytalk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ten City,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Trojans,
D'Angelo,
Shoche,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cowsills,
Eric Dolphy,
Lucky Dragons,
Byron Stingily,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Supertramp,
Tommy Roe,
Von Mondo,
The Real Kids,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Pus,
Todd Rundgren,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Zero Boys,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Litter,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.