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 New Zealand and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Danielle Patucci to the rock 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lou Reed,
The Modern Lovers,
The Saints,
The Walker Brothers,
Tomorrow,
June Days,
The Cowsills,
Man Parrish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
Magma,
Amon Düül II,
The Moleskins,
The Wake,
Blancmange,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare,
Crooked Eye,
The Misunderstood,
The Durutti Column,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Blackbyrds,
Crispian St. Peters,
Urselle,
Thompson Twins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arcadia,
Faust,
Gang Starr,
Rotary Connection,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Slick Rick,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus,
Matthew Halsall,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soft Cell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pere Ubu,
Dorothy Ashby,
Derrick May,
Swell Maps,
Roger Hodgson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Yellowson,
the Bar-Kays,
Drive Like Jehu,
Radiopuhelimet,
Icehouse,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cheater Slicks,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smoke,
Scrapy,
T. Rex,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.