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 Chad and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 sitar 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 The Barracudas to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Das Ding,
Soft Cell,
Alice Coltrane,
Cecil Taylor,
The Durutti Column,
Joy Division,
The American Breed,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Dirtbombs,
Steve Hackett,
Sällskapet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fad Gadget,
The Victims,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Laurel Aitken,
Metal Thangz,
Warsaw,
Colin Newman,
John Cale,
Wire,
Agent Orange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moleskins,
Lakeside,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
China Crisis,
The Fuzztones,
Jandek,
Carl Craig,
Minor Threat,
Unwound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Radiopuhelimet,
Absolute Body Control,
Y Pants,
Suburban Knight,
Ronnie Foster,
Mad Mike,
The Divine Comedy,
The Black Dice,
Freddie Wadling,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sex Pistols,
Chris Corsano,
The Searchers,
Jeff Lynne,
OOIOO,
Eve St. Jones,
The Stooges,
Anthony Braxton,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Iggy Pop,
T.S.O.L.,
Jesper Dahlback,
Danielle Patucci,
Adolescents,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.