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 Yemen and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba 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 Robert Wyatt to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Audionom record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rites of Spring,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fear,
Fad Gadget,
Arcadia,
Panda Bear,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Roxy Music,
Alison Limerick,
Sex Pistols,
the Swans,
DJ Style,
Outsiders,
The Doobie Brothers,
June of 44,
Sarah Menescal,
Magma,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Au Pairs,
Barry Ungar,
Liliput,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Simply Red,
The Zeros,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roy Ayers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Public Enemy,
Icehouse,
Thee Headcoats,
The Techniques,
Bobby Womack,
The Names,
Tom Boy,
Peter and Kerry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Minor Threat,
Marmalade,
Black Pus,
ABBA,
Sister Nancy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Colin Newman,
Bob Dylan,
Carl Craig,
Sixth Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Fat Boys,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Echospace,
Heaven 17,
Make Up,
Swans,
Masters at Work,
Banda Bassotti,
Dead Boys,
Eli Mardock,
The Human League,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.