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 Paraguay and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Qualms to the crunk 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Roger Hodgson,
Deadbeat,
Harry Pussy,
H. Thieme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kenny Larkin,
Susan Cadogan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Mojo Men,
Von Mondo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bush Tetras,
Nik Kershaw,
Flamin' Groovies,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Minny Pops,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mantronix,
Piero Umiliani,
Faraquet,
Oblivians,
Maurizio,
Royal Trux,
Au Pairs,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Five Americans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Divine Comedy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The American Breed,
Boredoms,
Patti Smith,
Reagan Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Residents,
Camberwell Now,
Lakeside,
The Index,
Kas Product,
Negative Approach,
Ronan,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Skatalites,
Robert Görl,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Loose Ends,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sixth Finger,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jacob Miller,
Yaz,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Peter and Kerry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Buzzcocks,
Scan 7,
Eurythmics,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.