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 Comoros and from Copenhagen.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Television to the grunge 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Aaron Thompson,
Delta 5,
Soft Cell,
Anakelly,
Cymande,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lightning Bolt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantaleimon,
kango's stein massive,
The Last Poets,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nick Fraelich,
Y Pants,
James Chance & The Contortions,
8 Eyed Spy,
Young Marble Giants,
Patti Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Detroit Cobras,
Michelle Simonal,
Rekid,
The Smoke,
Oneida,
cv313,
MC5,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sound Behaviour,
Amazonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Vainqueur,
Wasted Youth,
X-102,
The Names,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Icehouse,
Darondo,
The Misunderstood,
Circle Jerks,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bluetip,
The Techniques,
Glenn Branca,
Marshall Jefferson,
John Holt,
Pylon,
Rakim,
Deepchord,
Blancmange,
Judy Mowatt,
Unwound,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Lydon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ossler,
The Fuzztones,
Hardrive,
Chris Corsano,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.