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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum 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 Harry Pussy to the punk 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
a-ha,
Mad Mike,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Barry Ungar,
Rhythm & Sound,
Hoover,
Banda Bassotti,
New Order,
Robert Hood,
Siglo XX,
UT,
Monks,
Los Fastidios,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Aural Exciters,
PIL,
Derrick Morgan,
Scratch Acid,
The Litter,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rufus Thomas,
The Selecter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tommy Roe,
Dorothy Ashby,
Byron Stingily,
Howard Jones,
Tom Boy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
K-Klass,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nas,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boz Scaggs,
Ronnie Foster,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nico,
Scientists,
Warsaw,
Blancmange,
The Five Americans,
U.S. Maple,
DJ Sneak,
Scion,
Al Stewart,
Rapeman,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wolf Eyes,
Piero Umiliani,
Public Enemy,
Glenn Branca,
Sugar Minott,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thompson Twins,
Jimmy McGriff,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.