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 Marshall Islands and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ultra Naté to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms 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?
Pere Ubu,
The Dead C,
Curtis Mayfield,
R.M.O.,
Dead Boys,
The Stooges,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nirvana,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Moody Blues,
Barry Ungar,
Sarah Menescal,
The Selecter,
Barrington Levy,
Eve St. Jones,
T.S.O.L.,
Bluetip,
Henry Cow,
Smog,
Ohio Players,
Bootsy Collins,
The Cramps,
The Fuzztones,
Skaos,
Albert Ayler,
La Düsseldorf,
One Last Wish,
Stiv Bators,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Johnny Clarke,
Gong,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Soul Sonic Force,
Colin Newman,
Matthew Bourne,
Flash Fearless,
Inner City,
The Fall,
Alton Ellis,
Masters at Work,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Underground Resistance,
DJ Sneak,
James White and The Blacks,
The Saints,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sandy B,
Robert Görl,
Average White Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scratch Acid,
Swans,
Sun City Girls,
Yusef Lateef,
Aural Exciters,
Archie Shepp,
Dave Gahan,
Shuggie Otis,
Khruangbin,
The Barracudas,
The Walker Brothers,
Supertramp,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.