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 Equatorial Guinea and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 oboe 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 Urselle to the techno 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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Pere Ubu,
John Holt,
Graham Central Station,
Scott Walker,
Skriet,
Amazonics,
UT,
cv313,
Robert Görl,
John Lydon,
B.T. Express,
Sister Nancy,
Colin Newman,
Gerry Rafferty,
Vainqueur,
Yusef Lateef,
A Certain Ratio,
The Cowsills,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Niagra,
Mary Jane Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Kinks,
The Searchers,
Qualms,
Radiohead,
Idris Muhammad,
Moss Icon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Derrick May,
Pharoah Sanders,
Franke,
Rapeman,
The Raincoats,
Public Enemy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Gladiators,
Byron Stingily,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Womack,
Godley & Creme,
Thee Headcoats,
The Misunderstood,
Public Image Ltd.,
Girls At Our Best!,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bizarre Inc.,
Electric Prunes,
The Remains,
Marc Almond,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kas Product,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang Gang Dance,
Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free.
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.