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 Belgium and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tim Buckley to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Anakelly. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Thompson Twins,
Wasted Youth,
The Star Department,
Chrome,
Supertramp,
Oneida,
Scientists,
Kayak,
Gregory Isaacs,
Das Ding,
Television Personalities,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Young Marble Giants,
These Immortal Souls,
DNA,
The Misunderstood,
Ken Boothe,
Bill Wells,
Robert Wyatt,
The Victims,
Mr. Review,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
Mo-Dettes,
The Cowsills,
Brothers Johnson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gang Green,
Absolute Body Control,
Moby Grape,
Cybotron,
Outsiders,
Groovy Waters,
Lindisfarne,
Drive Like Jehu,
FM Einheit,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Crooked Eye,
Jeff Lynne,
Pussy Galore,
Johnny Osbourne,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Trojans,
Colin Newman,
The Remains,
Section 25,
Bluetip,
Bob Dylan,
The Standells,
Second Layer,
X-101,
Sex Pistols,
Panda Bear,
Bush Tetras,
Neil Young,
The Invisible,
UT,
Peter & Gordon,
Bobby Sherman,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.