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 Samoa and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The United States of America to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Terry Callier,
The Toasters,
Ultra Naté,
KRS-One,
The Monks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radiopuhelimet,
Can,
Fluxion,
Black Sheep,
Schoolly D,
Jeff Mills,
Nas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kenny Larkin,
The Happenings,
Television Personalities,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Joy Division,
Main Source,
Rekid,
Young Marble Giants,
Scion,
Quadrant,
Popol Vuh,
The Sound,
Intrusion,
DNA,
Aural Exciters,
Donald Byrd,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
One Last Wish,
David Bowie,
kango's stein massive,
Arcadia,
Johnny Osbourne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Malaria!,
Whodini,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Smiths,
The Martian,
Zero Boys,
Ice-T,
Banda Bassotti,
Kerri Chandler,
Inner City,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Moss Icon,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oblivians,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.