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 Nauru and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sugar Minott,
Porter Ricks,
Simply Red,
Sonic Youth,
Sun Ra,
Silicon Teens,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Parry Music,
Nick Fraelich,
8 Eyed Spy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Negative Approach,
Funky Four + One,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masters at Work,
Dawn Penn,
JFA,
Lindisfarne,
The Mummies,
Bill Near,
Deakin,
Mr. Review,
Bill Wells,
Monolake,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eric Copeland,
Subhumans,
Nils Olav,
Minor Threat,
Peter and Kerry,
Glenn Branca,
The Monochrome Set,
Agitation Free,
Mandrill,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Das Ding,
The Gap Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
D'Angelo,
Faust,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gang Green,
Pole,
the Bar-Kays,
The Selecter,
Wolf Eyes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare,
Sparks,
Danielle Patucci,
The Blues Magoos,
The Modern Lovers,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.