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 Nauru and from Jakarta.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar 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 Country Teasers to the disco 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Whodini,
Radio Birdman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Television Personalities,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Last Poets,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Pop Group,
Hot Snakes,
X-Ray Spex,
Reagan Youth,
June Days,
Gong,
Q65,
Television,
Mr. Review,
Vainqueur,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jacques Brel,
Barclay James Harvest,
48th St. Collective,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Five Americans,
the Bar-Kays,
Sun City Girls,
Ornette Coleman,
Amon Düül,
Bad Manners,
The Kinks,
Nils Olav,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lungfish,
Cluster,
Nation of Ulysses,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
DJ Style,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Barracudas,
The Fuzztones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crime,
Agent Orange,
The Standells,
Ituana,
Gang Starr,
Zapp,
Brass Construction,
Shuggie Otis,
X-102,
Minny Pops,
Mad Mike,
Prince Buster,
Dead Boys,
Stiv Bators,
Marc Almond,
Pylon,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.