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 Congo and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the organ 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 Dead Boys to the jazz 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
48th St. Collective,
The Dirtbombs,
Symarip,
The Sound,
T. Rex,
Popol Vuh,
The Buckinghams,
Gabor Szabo,
Supertramp,
The Birthday Party,
Chris Corsano,
Patti Smith,
Cymande,
Aswad,
Lyres,
Matthew Halsall,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Tremeloes,
Minor Threat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Darondo,
Monks,
Television,
Moby Grape,
The Misunderstood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Panda Bear,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Wasted Youth,
Tears for Fears,
The Smiths,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crispy Ambulance,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Black Pus,
Oneida,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Flag,
Rotary Connection,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Inner City,
The Gories,
Lindisfarne,
Pere Ubu,
Sister Nancy,
John Holt,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Can,
The Smoke,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Wake,
Intrusion,
Agent Orange,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.