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 Uganda and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Index to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aswad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
Deadbeat,
Drexciya,
Crooked Eye,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Near,
Sonic Youth,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Pretty Things,
Sällskapet,
Mark Hollis,
Half Japanese,
T.S.O.L.,
Monolake,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Deakin,
the Swans,
Joe Smooth,
The Mummies,
E-Dancer,
David McCallum,
The New Christs,
The Grass Roots,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joyce Sims,
The Misunderstood,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fugs,
Royal Trux,
Robert Hood,
Kaleidoscope,
Theoretical Girls,
DJ Style,
The Residents,
The Gun Club,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Warsaw,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Maurizio,
Technova,
T. Rex,
These Immortal Souls,
The Skatalites,
Alice Coltrane,
Anthony Braxton,
Harry Pussy,
Sun Ra,
Mission of Burma,
Depeche Mode,
Todd Terry,
The Kinks,
Radiohead,
Blake Baxter,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.