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 Belarus and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the grunge 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Danielle Patucci,
The Stooges,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
New York Dolls,
MC5,
X-Ray Spex,
Intrusion,
Schoolly D,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ohio Players,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dirtbombs,
The Trojans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Porter Ricks,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Moleskins,
Scratch Acid,
Darondo,
Susan Cadogan,
The Skatalites,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dual Sessions,
Cheater Slicks,
The Smiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hoover,
Brick,
The Searchers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Desert Stars,
In Retrospect,
Matthew Halsall,
the Bar-Kays,
Duran Duran,
Harmonia,
Bobby Womack,
The Seeds,
Interpol,
The Names,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Golliwogs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bang On A Can,
JFA,
These Immortal Souls,
Juan Atkins,
Loose Ends,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mo-Dettes,
Eden Ahbez,
Lungfish,
Andrew Hill,
Easy Going,
The Moody Blues,
The Knickerbockers,
Anakelly,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.