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 Thailand and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Move to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Accadde A,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare,
Yusef Lateef,
Buzzcocks,
Model 500,
Camouflage,
Guru Guru,
Arthur Verocai,
Minutemen,
Kurtis Blow,
Ludus,
Clear Light,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Victims,
X-Ray Spex,
The Modern Lovers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jerry Gold Smith,
T.S.O.L.,
Prince Buster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dennis Brown,
Scott Walker,
These Immortal Souls,
Symarip,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Monks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lindisfarne,
Patti Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
The Techniques,
Marmalade,
The United States of America,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fad Gadget,
Hoover,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ultravox,
Malaria!,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mojo Men,
Deakin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lower 48,
Bauhaus,
Hot Snakes,
The Skatalites,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Peter & Gordon,
Al Stewart,
The Monochrome Set,
Icehouse,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fortunes,
Delon & Dalcan,
June of 44,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.