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 Ireland and from Shanghai.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gong,
Stiv Bators,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Fortunes,
Das Ding,
Joe Finger,
The Index,
Peter & Gordon,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric Copeland,
Joyce Sims,
Unwound,
Easy Going,
Hasil Adkins,
These Immortal Souls,
Blancmange,
Neil Young,
Soul II Soul,
Harry Pussy,
cv313,
Pylon,
Basic Channel,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kayak,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Johnny Clarke,
Todd Rundgren,
Adolescents,
Althea and Donna,
Steve Hackett,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Roxette,
Matthew Halsall,
Scratch Acid,
Derrick Morgan,
Ronnie Foster,
Sonic Youth,
Connie Case,
Black Sheep,
Fifty Foot Hose,
T. Rex,
Circle Jerks,
The Pretty Things,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Names,
The Moody Blues,
Slave,
Metal Thangz,
ABC,
Wire,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Bananas,
Soft Cell,
Kerri Chandler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amon Düül,
The Dirtbombs,
Leonard Cohen,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.