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 Malta and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Hot Snakes to the rap 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Enemy,
Soft Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Dark Day,
Tears for Fears,
Symarip,
the Human League,
Parry Music,
Inner City,
Livin' Joy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Second Layer,
Bill Wells,
Tommy Roe,
The Dirtbombs,
La Düsseldorf,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Joensuu 1685,
Skarface,
John Cale,
T.S.O.L.,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lakeside,
The Dead C,
Slave,
H. Thieme,
Harry Pussy,
Young Marble Giants,
Circle Jerks,
Zero Boys,
Absolute Body Control,
Gang Starr,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pagans,
Barry Ungar,
Bad Manners,
Kas Product,
Spandau Ballet,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
Mr. Review,
the Slits,
Minor Threat,
Fela Kuti,
Bobby Hutcherson,
DJ Style,
Maleditus Sound,
New Age Steppers,
The United States of America,
Sam Rivers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
kango's stein massive,
Toni Rubio,
Nirvana,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Popol Vuh,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.