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 New Zealand and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Modern Lovers to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
X-Ray Spex,
Ken Boothe,
Joe Smooth,
Excepter,
Bauhaus,
Tears for Fears,
Alphaville,
Godley & Creme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Stooges,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Cale,
Letta Mbulu,
KRS-One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Warsaw,
Chris & Cosey,
Magma,
Judy Mowatt,
Desert Stars,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Derrick Morgan,
Echospace,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sparks,
Ultra Naté,
Amon Düül,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kerri Chandler,
Kool Moe Dee,
Saccharine Trust,
The Busters,
Sound Behaviour,
The Trojans,
Blancmange,
B.T. Express,
Ossler,
Wings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Drexciya,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spoonie Gee,
Supertramp,
Y Pants,
The Skatalites,
the Slits,
Sister Nancy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Gun Club,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joensuu 1685,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fad Gadget,
Negative Approach,
Pharoah Sanders,
Minnie Riperton,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mark Hollis,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Selecter,
Peter and Kerry,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.