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 Chile and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 guitar 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 Lalo Schifrin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Porter Ricks,
The Fuzztones,
Trumans Water,
Bill Near,
Suburban Knight,
Easy Going,
Wally Richardson,
James White and The Blacks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Flag,
Inner City,
The Associates,
Althea and Donna,
Arcadia,
The Divine Comedy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Grass Roots,
Roger Hodgson,
Erasure,
Warren Ellis,
DJ Style,
Animal Collective,
Joy Division,
Kevin Saunderson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mo-Dettes,
Urselle,
Bluetip,
Isaac Hayes,
Robert Görl,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nico,
Monolake,
Pantaleimon,
The Red Krayola,
David Bowie,
Bauhaus,
Liliput,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Womack,
The Gap Band,
The Trojans,
Sight & Sound,
UT,
Y Pants,
Joyce Sims,
The Seeds,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Quadrant,
The Selecter,
Dark Day,
The Gun Club,
The Cowsills,
David Axelrod,
ABC,
Bill Wells,
Derrick Morgan,
The Searchers,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Parrish,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.