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 Switzerland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Delhi.
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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Frankie Knuckles to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Newcleus,
Nik Kershaw,
Cluster,
Black Sheep,
Robert Hood,
This Heat,
The New Christs,
Unwound,
Marcia Griffiths,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
Sister Nancy,
Soft Cell,
Loose Ends,
Iggy Pop,
Basic Channel,
Donald Byrd,
Inner City,
China Crisis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sarah Menescal,
Henry Cow,
Scrapy,
The Skatalites,
Pulsallama,
Jeff Lynne,
Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
Surgeon,
Faraquet,
Visage,
T. Rex,
The Pretty Things,
Interpol,
Stereo Dub,
Byron Stingily,
Minor Threat,
The Zeros,
The Seeds,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Smiths,
Sun Ra,
The Residents,
Smog,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Freddie Wadling,
Unrelated Segments,
Metal Thangz,
Second Layer,
the Normal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Accadde A,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Leaves,
Roger Hodgson,
Mr. Review,
The Saints,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wally Richardson,
James White and The Blacks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
T.S.O.L.,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.