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 Botswana and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bush Tetras to the rock 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
The Electric Prunes,
Kerri Chandler,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bob Dylan,
The J.B.'s,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sam Rivers,
Tres Demented,
Todd Terry,
Sound Behaviour,
Monks,
Michelle Simonal,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Soft Cell,
Reagan Youth,
Siglo XX,
The Fuzztones,
T.S.O.L.,
Lalann,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lindisfarne,
Faraquet,
8 Eyed Spy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crime,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Fall,
Jerry's Kids,
Radiohead,
Make Up,
Byron Stingily,
CMW,
Deepchord,
Public Image Ltd.,
Charles Mingus,
Lower 48,
Fugazi,
Unwound,
Cameo,
The Cure,
The Motions,
Prince Buster,
The United States of America,
Bobby Sherman,
Carl Craig,
The Blues Magoos,
Faust,
Anakelly,
Heaven 17,
Zero Boys,
Dual Sessions,
Darondo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Zeros,
The Moody Blues,
Surgeon,
Qualms,
Juan Atkins,
The Doors,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.