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 Papua New Guinea and from Madrid.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 guitar 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 Hardrive to the rock 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Motorama,
Glambeats Corp.,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Stooges,
Barbara Tucker,
Wire,
The Motions,
Ituana,
Deadbeat,
Liliput,
Eurythmics,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cowsills,
Stiv Bators,
The Evens,
Pussy Galore,
Faust,
E-Dancer,
T.S.O.L.,
Lalann,
The Buckinghams,
Juan Atkins,
Susan Cadogan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Flipper,
Marshall Jefferson,
Saccharine Trust,
The Victims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lucky Dragons,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Hoover,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Severed Heads,
Oblivians,
Au Pairs,
Los Fastidios,
Pet Shop Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marc Almond,
Ronan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Glenn Branca,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Slits,
Scan 7,
Jeff Lynne,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bluetip,
Judy Mowatt,
Monolake,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Delta 5,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minutemen,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.