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 Rwanda and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 808 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 Sun Ra to the disco 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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Los Fastidios,
The Cramps,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Massinfluence,
Nico,
Grauzone,
Unwound,
Adolescents,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dark Day,
Sex Pistols,
The Durutti Column,
The Birthday Party,
The Red Krayola,
Deadbeat,
Nils Olav,
Eli Mardock,
Supertramp,
OOIOO,
Erasure,
Cymande,
Sugar Minott,
Organ,
The Fortunes,
The Skatalites,
Easy Going,
The Velvet Underground,
The New Christs,
Black Bananas,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Blancmange,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Cowsills,
Alton Ellis,
Amon Düül,
Pole,
Theoretical Girls,
the Germs,
Alphaville,
Ornette Coleman,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Anthony Braxton,
Q and Not U,
The Divine Comedy,
The Standells,
Patti Smith,
Icehouse,
Drexciya,
John Cale,
One Last Wish,
Zero Boys,
Can,
Gang Green,
The Golliwogs,
Stereo Dub,
A Certain Ratio,
Skaos,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.