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 Sierra Leone and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fad Gadget to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Barclay James Harvest,
Depeche Mode,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kayak,
Al Stewart,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Green,
This Heat,
Lalann,
Nirvana,
China Crisis,
Jacob Miller,
The Red Krayola,
U.S. Maple,
Royal Trux,
Absolute Body Control,
Bad Manners,
Soft Machine,
Au Pairs,
Barrington Levy,
Sparks,
The Mojo Men,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sixth Finger,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Underground Resistance,
Bob Dylan,
Ponytail,
Unrelated Segments,
Reuben Wilson,
Mark Hollis,
F. McDonald,
Crispian St. Peters,
Porter Ricks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Index,
Electric Light Orchestra,
KRS-One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lungfish,
Chrome,
MC5,
the Fania All-Stars,
Yellowson,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fatback Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Niagra,
Byron Stingily,
Thompson Twins,
E-Dancer,
Intrusion,
Toni Rubio,
The Moleskins,
Crime,
Main Source,
Neil Young,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.