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 Slovakia and from Philadelphia.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Johnny Clarke to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
The Evens,
Sexual Harrassment,
PIL,
Underground Resistance,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Angels of Light,
The Gap Band,
Simply Red,
Monks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Toni Rubio,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Interpol,
Donny Hathaway,
Derrick Morgan,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
Das Ding,
The New Christs,
June Days,
Panda Bear,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Khruangbin,
Carl Craig,
Eric Copeland,
Delon & Dalcan,
La Düsseldorf,
The Slits,
Supertramp,
Rekid,
The Modern Lovers,
The Black Dice,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mummies,
Quantec,
Darondo,
Faraquet,
The Raincoats,
Can,
Gil Scott Heron,
Section 25,
Lyres,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harmonia,
Pussy Galore,
Tropical Tobacco,
Anakelly,
Dennis Brown,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Womack,
kango's stein massive,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Zeros,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo,
Cameo,
New Age Steppers,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.