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 Taiwan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
The American Breed,
Von Mondo,
X-Ray Spex,
Wire,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gong,
Blake Baxter,
Neil Young,
Sexual Harrassment,
Susan Cadogan,
The Buckinghams,
Arcadia,
Blancmange,
Rufus Thomas,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grauzone,
Freddie Wadling,
Man Parrish,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Martian,
Unwound,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joe Finger,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Womack,
Tim Buckley,
T. Rex,
Sugar Minott,
This Heat,
Banda Bassotti,
The Associates,
Massinfluence,
Faust,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wings,
Saccharine Trust,
Barry Ungar,
The Electric Prunes,
Peter & Gordon,
Cymande,
Man Eating Sloth,
X-101,
Cheater Slicks,
Desert Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
8 Eyed Spy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Saints,
OOIOO,
Scott Walker,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lyres,
Animal Collective,
The Cowsills,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mad Mike,
Lalann,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Flipper,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.