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 Belize and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Personalities to the jazz 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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Amon Düül II,
Scrapy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultravox,
The Motions,
Steve Hackett,
Graham Central Station,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
New Order,
Hoover,
Thee Headcoats,
Y Pants,
The Modern Lovers,
Leonard Cohen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Brand Nubian,
Beasts of Bourbon,
H. Thieme,
Roy Ayers,
Radiohead,
The Moody Blues,
Bill Wells,
Malaria!,
Sarah Menescal,
Juan Atkins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Associates,
Black Sheep,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fugazi,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Gun Club,
Sun Ra,
T. Rex,
The Gladiators,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cowsills,
The Move,
Radio Birdman,
These Immortal Souls,
Country Teasers,
Camberwell Now,
The Electric Prunes,
Little Man,
the Swans,
X-102,
Cybotron,
Model 500,
Mo-Dettes,
Blossom Toes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minor Threat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.