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 Ghana and from Woodstock.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Smog to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Gil Scott Heron,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Slits,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
X-101,
The Music Machine,
Duran Duran,
Yaz,
Ossler,
Can,
Saccharine Trust,
Marine Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wally Richardson,
Infiniti,
Donny Hathaway,
Deepchord,
Tom Boy,
Y Pants,
Oneida,
Graham Central Station,
Godley & Creme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wire,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swans,
Shuggie Otis,
John Holt,
Hashim,
Curtis Mayfield,
Chris Corsano,
Lucky Dragons,
Jawbox,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Malaria!,
Swell Maps,
Marmalade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Slits,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Young Rascals,
Moebius,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sister Nancy,
Deadbeat,
Chris & Cosey,
Gregory Isaacs,
Deakin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rekid,
Barbara Tucker,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jacques Brel,
James White and The Blacks,
K-Klass,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.