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 Maldives and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar 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 Qualms to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tommy Roe,
Gang Starr,
Kaleidoscope,
Sällskapet,
Malaria!,
John Holt,
Funkadelic,
Byron Stingily,
Oblivians,
The Pretty Things,
The Modern Lovers,
Hoover,
Darondo,
The Blackbyrds,
The Tremeloes,
Connie Case,
Oneida,
Mark Hollis,
The Knickerbockers,
Sex Pistols,
Dennis Brown,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronnie Foster,
Marcia Griffiths,
Babytalk,
Pantytec,
Warren Ellis,
R.M.O.,
Interpol,
Eden Ahbez,
X-Ray Spex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Vogues,
Camberwell Now,
Piero Umiliani,
Alton Ellis,
Barclay James Harvest,
Skarface,
The Cramps,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brick,
The Toasters,
the Slits,
Metal Thangz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pantaleimon,
Youth Brigade,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mission of Burma,
Colin Newman,
Mo-Dettes,
Ludus,
The Fortunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Whodini,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lungfish,
Crime,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.