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 Philippines and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
The Fugs,
Accadde A,
The Motions,
Smog,
Letta Mbulu,
Pole,
June of 44,
Barry Ungar,
Cybotron,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Loose Ends,
The Busters,
Radio Birdman,
World's Most,
L. Decosne,
Interpol,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Swell Maps,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tommy Roe,
Electric Prunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
T. Rex,
Byron Stingily,
Thee Headcoats,
Con Funk Shun,
Fad Gadget,
The American Breed,
Brick,
Section 25,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yazoo,
X-102,
Spoonie Gee,
The Blackbyrds,
Brass Construction,
The Dead C,
Slick Rick,
Sight & Sound,
Fatback Band,
Public Enemy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ultravox,
Index,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Neon Judgement,
Aural Exciters,
Bronski Beat,
Bizarre Inc.,
Arthur Verocai,
Dave Gahan,
Circle Jerks,
Blake Baxter,
In Retrospect,
The United States of America,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.