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 Algeria and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Flamin' Groovies to the electroclash 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin 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 linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Graham Central Station,
Urselle,
Reuben Wilson,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nico,
Circle Jerks,
Bluetip,
Godley & Creme,
Schoolly D,
Underground Resistance,
Dennis Brown,
The Dirtbombs,
The Star Department,
Tomorrow,
Smog,
The Golliwogs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Moss Icon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Glenn Branca,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jerry's Kids,
World's Most,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bootsy Collins,
Lungfish,
Warsaw,
This Heat,
Das Ding,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Visage,
Pantytec,
One Last Wish,
New Order,
KRS-One,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rotary Connection,
Barclay James Harvest,
UT,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Neil Young,
Rufus Thomas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fall,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Green,
Sam Rivers,
Franke,
Malaria!,
Alice Coltrane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Oblivians,
Infiniti,
Theoretical Girls,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.