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 Iceland and from Manila.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Silicon Teens to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Index,
Tommy Roe,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Siglo XX,
Simply Red,
Camberwell Now,
T. Rex,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Banda Bassotti,
Eddi Front,
Nils Olav,
Neil Young,
E-Dancer,
Mad Mike,
Thompson Twins,
Severed Heads,
The Blackbyrds,
Susan Cadogan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Los Fastidios,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Black Pus,
Quadrant,
Magma,
Jacob Miller,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Whodini,
Wings,
The Fugs,
Eden Ahbez,
Blossom Toes,
Bobby Womack,
Althea and Donna,
Sound Behaviour,
Massinfluence,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed,
The Dead C,
Sun City Girls,
LL Cool J,
Dennis Brown,
Ronan,
Gong,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joyce Sims,
Mandrill,
the Bar-Kays,
Sex Pistols,
The Real Kids,
Franke,
Henry Cow,
Kayak,
Minny Pops,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hardrive,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Underground Resistance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Loose Ends,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.