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 Korea North and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the grunge 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
The Monks,
New Order,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roxette,
Eden Ahbez,
The Busters,
Joyce Sims,
Lakeside,
Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eve St. Jones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
These Immortal Souls,
Alice Coltrane,
Inner City,
Blossom Toes,
Wolf Eyes,
Ludus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deakin,
Cluster,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Electric Prunes,
Jawbox,
Rotary Connection,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Juan Atkins,
The Wake,
Mandrill,
Procol Harum,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Mummies,
Cameo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jimmy McGriff,
New Age Steppers,
Motorama,
Swans,
Second Layer,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bluetip,
Nas,
10cc,
Pylon,
The Durutti Column,
Quadrant,
Rites of Spring,
Letta Mbulu,
Anakelly,
Vainqueur,
Deepchord,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harmonia,
The Divine Comedy,
Von Mondo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Danielle Patucci,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.