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 Eritrea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes 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 Popol Vuh to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Saints,
The Gladiators,
Cluster,
Hoover,
Mad Mike,
Man Eating Sloth,
Toni Rubio,
Magma,
Ornette Coleman,
Aswad,
The Smiths,
Black Moon,
The Divine Comedy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Warren Ellis,
Alison Limerick,
Urselle,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fall,
June of 44,
Gabor Szabo,
The Knickerbockers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Man Parrish,
The Busters,
Wings,
Intrusion,
Rekid,
Jeff Mills,
Schoolly D,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ludus,
Das Ding,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Gap Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marvin Gaye,
John Holt,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Flag,
The Dirtbombs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tears for Fears,
Aloha Tigers,
Terry Callier,
Camberwell Now,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Fire Engines,
Lalann,
Can,
June Days,
The Kinks,
Index,
The Leaves,
The Fortunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Swans,
Susan Cadogan,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.