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 Venezuela and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Winnipeg.
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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Eyeless In Gaza to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Marine Girls,
Faraquet,
Johnny Osbourne,
This Heat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Oblivians,
The Martian,
K-Klass,
Morten Harket,
Echospace,
Tears for Fears,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mars,
World's Most,
Sparks,
Quantec,
Cymande,
Man Eating Sloth,
Don Cherry,
the Swans,
Trumans Water,
T. Rex,
John Holt,
Marc Almond,
The Trojans,
Brothers Johnson,
Electric Prunes,
Duran Duran,
Todd Rundgren,
Procol Harum,
Arthur Verocai,
Stetsasonic,
Nik Kershaw,
Unwound,
David McCallum,
The Selecter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Amon Düül II,
Porter Ricks,
Sun Ra,
The Cramps,
The Grass Roots,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pantaleimon,
Shoche,
Monks,
Archie Shepp,
Todd Terry,
T.S.O.L.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scientists,
Tim Buckley,
Alice Coltrane,
Tomorrow,
Maurizio,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.