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 Brunei 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Barry Ungar to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Severed Heads,
Barry Ungar,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
June of 44,
Mission of Burma,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dawn Penn,
The Moleskins,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
Faust,
Ponytail,
Mad Mike,
The Modern Lovers,
The Seeds,
Moss Icon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Don Cherry,
Gang Green,
Goldenarms,
David McCallum,
cv313,
Hot Snakes,
The Cramps,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Janne Schatter,
The Smoke,
Au Pairs,
Henry Cow,
Fluxion,
Massinfluence,
The J.B.'s,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Kinks,
The Offenders,
Fear,
Eli Mardock,
Circle Jerks,
Wally Richardson,
H. Thieme,
Oneida,
Bill Wells,
The Red Krayola,
L. Decosne,
Pantaleimon,
The Durutti Column,
The Names,
Lou Reed,
Blancmange,
Radio Birdman,
The Sonics,
Minor Threat,
The Neon Judgement,
Talk Talk,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Babytalk,
Tim Buckley,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Adolescents,
Organ,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.