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 Egypt and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe 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 Mary Jane Girls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Country Teasers,
Black Sheep,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rufus Thomas,
The Golliwogs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Derrick Morgan,
The Slackers,
The Searchers,
Porter Ricks,
Parry Music,
June Days,
The Star Department,
The Busters,
Anakelly,
Fugazi,
Fatback Band,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Steve Hackett,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Matthew Bourne,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Stetsasonic,
Rekid,
Black Moon,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Terry,
One Last Wish,
Peter and Kerry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Procol Harum,
the Germs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Red Krayola,
The Young Rascals,
Lakeside,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gap Band,
Maleditus Sound,
John Coltrane,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lee Hazlewood,
Shuggie Otis,
Susan Cadogan,
The Smoke,
Nation of Ulysses,
Skriet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wings,
Minny Pops,
The Vogues,
Slick Rick,
Reagan Youth,
Yellowson,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.