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 South Africa and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Stockholm Monsters to the techno 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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Malaria!,
Kerrie Biddell,
L. Decosne,
Cymande,
Al Stewart,
Drexciya,
Cecil Taylor,
The Tremeloes,
Joy Division,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Offenders,
Tres Demented,
Sparks,
Joe Smooth,
Buzzcocks,
Judy Mowatt,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Joey Negro,
The Slits,
Pylon,
Can,
Massinfluence,
Minor Threat,
Pole,
Mars,
Subhumans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Circle Jerks,
Flash Fearless,
Toni Rubio,
The Grass Roots,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Smiths,
Index,
Soft Machine,
Masters at Work,
Sun City Girls,
Alison Limerick,
The Litter,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fortunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Don Cherry,
Anthony Braxton,
Tim Buckley,
Eddi Front,
Neil Young,
The Detroit Cobras,
Suburban Knight,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Toasters,
Television,
Bob Dylan,
The Barracudas,
EPMD,
Amazonics,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.