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 Kenya and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin 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 Von Mondo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
The Walker Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
The Slits,
Royal Trux,
The Remains,
Bang On A Can,
Arab on Radar,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Smog,
The United States of America,
World's Most,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric Copeland,
Ultravox,
Mission of Burma,
The Red Krayola,
Pole,
Amon Düül II,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ronan,
Morten Harket,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sällskapet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tears for Fears,
The Cure,
Simply Red,
Buzzcocks,
Zero Boys,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Beau Brummels,
a-ha,
Neu!,
Cal Tjader,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Danielle Patucci,
Young Marble Giants,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Country Teasers,
Johnny Clarke,
Tom Boy,
Al Stewart,
Theoretical Girls,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mojo Men,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Marc Almond,
Cecil Taylor,
The Associates,
Fugazi,
Leonard Cohen,
Camouflage,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gabor Szabo,
Angry Samoans,
Tomorrow,
Nick Fraelich,
FM Einheit,
Robert Görl,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Lydon,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.