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 Qatar and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin 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 F. McDonald to the punk 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Fugs,
Qualms,
JFA,
Funkadelic,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minor Threat,
The Cramps,
MDC,
Jerry's Kids,
Soft Cell,
Brothers Johnson,
Mantronix,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultra Naté,
Eric Copeland,
Tres Demented,
The Pretty Things,
Matthew Bourne,
The Names,
Leonard Cohen,
The Black Dice,
Hashim,
Byron Stingily,
KRS-One,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Joyce Sims,
DJ Sneak,
Man Eating Sloth,
Monks,
Mr. Review,
Lalo Schifrin,
Erasure,
Animal Collective,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Walker Brothers,
Pulsallama,
Dead Boys,
Warsaw,
Nico,
The Misunderstood,
Schoolly D,
Faust,
Cymande,
The Monochrome Set,
DJ Style,
Yusef Lateef,
Circle Jerks,
Roxy Music,
John Coltrane,
Alison Limerick,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Japan,
Man Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Reuben Wilson,
The Kinks,
Theoretical Girls,
La Düsseldorf,
Liliput,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.