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 Gabon and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes 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 Tim Buckley to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Althea and Donna,
Duran Duran,
Susan Cadogan,
These Immortal Souls,
Warren Ellis,
The Victims,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cluster,
Unrelated Segments,
Nick Fraelich,
Joy Division,
Prince Buster,
the Fania All-Stars,
Glenn Branca,
Amon Düül,
Andrew Hill,
The Misunderstood,
Excepter,
Neil Young,
Eric Copeland,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Move,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kas Product,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ornette Coleman,
The Index,
Mary Jane Girls,
The J.B.'s,
a-ha,
The Gun Club,
Surgeon,
Hot Snakes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
LL Cool J,
Rufus Thomas,
The Moody Blues,
Mo-Dettes,
Supertramp,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lebanon Hanover,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wally Richardson,
Sarah Menescal,
Ponytail,
The Moleskins,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Wire,
Second Layer,
The Fall,
Janne Schatter,
Thompson Twins,
Depeche Mode,
Rakim,
Ronnie Foster,
the Human League,
Quando Quango,
Qualms,
Electric Prunes,
Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!.
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.