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 Johannesburg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes 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 Metal Thangz to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
The Victims,
Aloha Tigers,
Scrapy,
Camouflage,
K-Klass,
Pantytec,
Andrew Hill,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Von Mondo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Unwound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gabor Szabo,
Derrick May,
Au Pairs,
The Evens,
The Cramps,
Joe Smooth,
John Coltrane,
Q and Not U,
Black Moon,
Neu!,
Ornette Coleman,
Mark Hollis,
Metal Thangz,
Terrestrial Tones,
Groovy Waters,
Pulsallama,
Arcadia,
The Invisible,
Judy Mowatt,
Youth Brigade,
Brass Construction,
UT,
OOIOO,
The Mummies,
Nils Olav,
the Soft Cell,
Man Parrish,
Banda Bassotti,
Goldenarms,
Moby Grape,
The Fall,
Max Romeo,
Davy DMX,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ronan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Motorama,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Yazoo,
Soft Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
Flamin' Groovies,
Roxy Music,
The Mojo Men,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Pus,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.