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 Costa Rica and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord 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 10cc to the funk 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Blossom Toes,
Gong,
Yusef Lateef,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tim Buckley,
Jawbox,
X-Ray Spex,
Infiniti,
Nick Fraelich,
Grey Daturas,
John Coltrane,
Mr. Review,
Wally Richardson,
AZ,
Man Parrish,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aloha Tigers,
Marc Almond,
Babytalk,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Magma,
The Birthday Party,
Sex Pistols,
Rotary Connection,
Dawn Penn,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Wyatt,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gichy Dan,
Heaven 17,
These Immortal Souls,
Siglo XX,
Dark Day,
Wire,
Skriet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Television,
Kerri Chandler,
Stetsasonic,
The Kinks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Little Man,
Sugar Minott,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sun Ra,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott Heron,
Easy Going,
The Moleskins,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Velvet Underground,
Talk Talk,
La Düsseldorf,
Monks,
Arcadia,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.