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 Nigeria and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb 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 Sam Rivers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Amon Düül,
Pulsallama,
The Knickerbockers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
World's Most,
KRS-One,
Jacques Brel,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ken Boothe,
the Human League,
John Lydon,
Khruangbin,
Funky Four + One,
Metal Thangz,
Little Man,
Slick Rick,
Cybotron,
Parry Music,
the Slits,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Blake Baxter,
Quando Quango,
Newcleus,
The Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
Darondo,
Aloha Tigers,
Bob Dylan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Arthur Verocai,
Nick Fraelich,
Saccharine Trust,
June of 44,
The Gladiators,
Kayak,
Lebanon Hanover,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Half Japanese,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Basic Channel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Camouflage,
Sugar Minott,
Groovy Waters,
Tubeway Army,
The American Breed,
Minor Threat,
The Mojo Men,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Misunderstood,
Goldenarms,
The Litter,
New York Dolls,
Altered Images,
AZ,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kas Product,
Eric Copeland,
Crispian St. Peters,
Colin Newman,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.