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 Malawi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 Cameo to the grunge 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Inner City,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Los Fastidios,
The Fire Engines,
The Cramps,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crime,
Jawbox,
Tears for Fears,
The Last Poets,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pylon,
Fluxion,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Shoche,
Stereo Dub,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Moleskins,
James White and The Blacks,
Harmonia,
Dennis Brown,
Blake Baxter,
Ten City,
Circle Jerks,
The Saints,
Zero Boys,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Depeche Mode,
Brass Construction,
Skaos,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Smiths,
Matthew Bourne,
Harry Pussy,
Kenny Larkin,
Ronnie Foster,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amazonics,
Wally Richardson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chris Corsano,
Franke,
Freddie Wadling,
Arthur Verocai,
Minnie Riperton,
Barrington Levy,
Reagan Youth,
Don Cherry,
Marvin Gaye,
Peter and Kerry,
Amon Düül,
Davy DMX,
The Divine Comedy,
R.M.O.,
Aaron Thompson,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.