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 Portugal and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Thee Headcoats to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Pierre Henry,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Smiths,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Darondo,
Mr. Review,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mantronix,
Bob Dylan,
Public Enemy,
The United States of America,
John Holt,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Flipper,
Guru Guru,
Interpol,
Glenn Branca,
Porter Ricks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aaron Thompson,
Con Funk Shun,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Star Department,
Marmalade,
Letta Mbulu,
Au Pairs,
Chris & Cosey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Sheep,
Adolescents,
The Toasters,
The Litter,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang of Four,
Barry Ungar,
the Normal,
Reuben Wilson,
Niagra,
Maleditus Sound,
Buzzcocks,
Inner City,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Flesh Eaters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
L. Decosne,
David Axelrod,
Laurel Aitken,
8 Eyed Spy,
Babytalk,
Nils Olav,
Pussy Galore,
June of 44,
X-Ray Spex,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division,
Fluxion,
Howard Jones,
The Grass Roots,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.