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 Cameroon and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar 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 kango's stein massive to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Lindisfarne,
Neu!,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Kinks,
Black Bananas,
The Beau Brummels,
Urselle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-102,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Brass Construction,
The Gun Club,
Massinfluence,
Mandrill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jacques Brel,
Charles Mingus,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Evens,
Andrew Hill,
Scrapy,
The Walker Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Das Ding,
Man Parrish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
PIL,
Sandy B,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Maleditus Sound,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Dead C,
Spandau Ballet,
Derrick May,
Thee Headcoats,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cheater Slicks,
Qualms,
Fad Gadget,
Barry Ungar,
Technova,
AZ,
Camouflage,
Make Up,
Electric Prunes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rekid,
Swell Maps,
Adolescents,
Silicon Teens,
Anakelly,
Jeff Mills,
Liliput,
Grey Daturas,
Schoolly D,
Yellowson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
CMW,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.