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 El Salvador and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tropical Tobacco to the disco 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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Birthday Party,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Soft Cell,
Mr. Review,
Fat Boys,
Agent Orange,
Technova,
Eve St. Jones,
The Grass Roots,
EPMD,
The Searchers,
Henry Cow,
Vladislav Delay,
The Barracudas,
The Monochrome Set,
The Index,
Fela Kuti,
PIL,
Public Enemy,
Terry Callier,
Rod Modell,
Black Pus,
Banda Bassotti,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Half Japanese,
Nirvana,
The Evens,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Depeche Mode,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Eating Sloth,
MC5,
Sixth Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
Absolute Body Control,
The Music Machine,
Mission of Burma,
Oneida,
Interpol,
Al Stewart,
DNA,
Big Daddy Kane,
Loose Ends,
Oblivians,
Country Teasers,
Ice-T,
John Holt,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Symarip,
Basic Channel,
Bootsy Collins,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
New Order,
Connie Case,
Procol Harum,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Durutti Column,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.