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 Benin and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rites of Spring to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kas Product record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
MC5,
Iggy Pop,
Organ,
the Germs,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Gladiators,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cheater Slicks,
L. Decosne,
Yellowson,
Goldenarms,
Youth Brigade,
Soul II Soul,
Bang On A Can,
Con Funk Shun,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Trumans Water,
Sparks,
Section 25,
OOIOO,
Pagans,
Slick Rick,
Bill Near,
Todd Terry,
Soft Machine,
Subhumans,
Technova,
The Black Dice,
X-101,
Basic Channel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Pus,
Altered Images,
Essential Logic,
Gabor Szabo,
Andrew Hill,
Malaria!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pole,
The Walker Brothers,
Tim Buckley,
Patti Smith,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Slits,
Amon Düül,
The Leaves,
Adolescents,
The United States of America,
Bill Wells,
Alison Limerick,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Swell Maps,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Severed Heads,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.