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 Guyana and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Qualms to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kayak,
Boredoms,
Joey Negro,
Lou Christie,
Lakeside,
Colin Newman,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Star Department,
Blancmange,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sarah Menescal,
Soft Cell,
Von Mondo,
Joe Finger,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DJ Sneak,
The Music Machine,
Bizarre Inc.,
Graham Central Station,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gang of Four,
Iggy Pop,
Terry Callier,
The Grass Roots,
48th St. Collective,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Agent Orange,
Minutemen,
Moebius,
Smog,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Coltrane,
Organ,
The American Breed,
The Saints,
Buzzcocks,
Cluster,
Scott Walker,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Doors,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joy Division,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Toasters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eurythmics,
Bill Near,
Jandek,
Gabor Szabo,
Magma,
H. Thieme,
The Red Krayola,
The United States of America,
Soul II Soul,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.