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 Antigua and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Black Pus to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Don Cherry,
The Star Department,
Metal Thangz,
Bill Near,
Warsaw,
Thompson Twins,
Khruangbin,
The Divine Comedy,
Crooked Eye,
The Moleskins,
John Holt,
Y Pants,
cv313,
The Gories,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Yaz,
Cymande,
ABC,
Public Image Ltd.,
Smog,
Depeche Mode,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eve St. Jones,
Young Marble Giants,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Slick Rick,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Germs,
The Music Machine,
Suburban Knight,
Monks,
DJ Sneak,
The Pop Group,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
John Cale,
Lou Reed,
The Cowsills,
Second Layer,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stetsasonic,
Kaleidoscope,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scrapy,
Cal Tjader,
Freddie Wadling,
The Mummies,
Wasted Youth,
the Association,
Unrelated Segments,
The Count Five,
The Gun Club,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Skaos,
Mars,
Flipper,
The Remains,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang of Four,
The Seeds,
Sunsets and Hearts,
New Age Steppers,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.