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 Italy and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 clarinet 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 Vladislav Delay to the punk 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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Sonic Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cure,
Man Eating Sloth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Depeche Mode,
Crispian St. Peters,
Monks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Banda Bassotti,
Sparks,
John Holt,
Jeff Mills,
Laurel Aitken,
The Selecter,
Los Fastidios,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Birthday Party,
Angry Samoans,
CMW,
Yazoo,
The Searchers,
Moebius,
DNA,
The Index,
Rotary Connection,
The Knickerbockers,
Supertramp,
Duran Duran,
Kerrie Biddell,
Loose Ends,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ronan,
ABC,
Electric Prunes,
Make Up,
June of 44,
DJ Sneak,
ABBA,
Intrusion,
Silicon Teens,
Con Funk Shun,
Anakelly,
Derrick May,
Pussy Galore,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Music Machine,
Minor Threat,
Mr. Review,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Sonics,
David McCallum,
the Bar-Kays,
The Remains,
Glambeats Corp.,
kango's stein massive,
Vainqueur,
Rakim,
Colin Newman,
MDC,
Gerry Rafferty,
The J.B.'s,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.