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 Denmark and from Paris.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Bobby Sherman,
China Crisis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Camberwell Now,
Pere Ubu,
The Durutti Column,
Arthur Verocai,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Parry Music,
Pantaleimon,
Flash Fearless,
AZ,
Lou Reed,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Barrington Levy,
The Seeds,
Black Bananas,
Mantronix,
Minnie Riperton,
the Fania All-Stars,
Surgeon,
Lindisfarne,
Aaron Thompson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Donald Byrd,
Pantytec,
Cluster,
Swell Maps,
Icehouse,
Quadrant,
Soft Machine,
Sarah Menescal,
Marmalade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Slits,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Index,
Neu!,
the Germs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Barry Ungar,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lungfish,
Robert Wyatt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mars,
The Saints,
The Electric Prunes,
Cheater Slicks,
10cc,
Steve Hackett,
Pylon,
Bronski Beat,
Circle Jerks,
Erykah Badu,
Ituana,
Nik Kershaw,
T. Rex,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.