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 Hungary and from Milan.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Doobie Brothers to the dance 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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gichy Dan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
L. Decosne,
DJ Style,
Aaron Thompson,
The Slackers,
Clear Light,
Cal Tjader,
Marine Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
Camouflage,
Ludus,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sex Pistols,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bill Near,
Siglo XX,
Brand Nubian,
PIL,
Technova,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Desert Stars,
Albert Ayler,
Scientists,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Agitation Free,
Niagra,
Visage,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bluetip,
Letta Mbulu,
Lakeside,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brothers Johnson,
Ossler,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cluster,
La Düsseldorf,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Swell Maps,
Steve Hackett,
Black Bananas,
E-Dancer,
T. Rex,
June of 44,
The Dirtbombs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sound Behaviour,
Eve St. Jones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Durutti Column,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül,
Dark Day,
Outsiders,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bang On A Can,
Guru Guru,
FM Einheit,
John Foxx,
Public Enemy,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.