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 St Lucia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 Moby Grape to the techno 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sound,
Slick Rick,
Juan Atkins,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fuzztones,
Black Pus,
Livin' Joy,
David Bowie,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
B.T. Express,
Nick Fraelich,
Radiohead,
The Cramps,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soft Cell,
The Seeds,
48th St. Collective,
One Last Wish,
Cluster,
Arthur Verocai,
Peter & Gordon,
Drexciya,
Amon Düül,
Dennis Brown,
Derrick May,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
R.M.O.,
Mr. Review,
The Young Rascals,
DNA,
Bill Near,
The Offenders,
Los Fastidios,
Shoche,
Grauzone,
LL Cool J,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eden Ahbez,
Severed Heads,
Talk Talk,
Swans,
Visage,
Groovy Waters,
New Age Steppers,
Youth Brigade,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Moon,
Cybotron,
Bluetip,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Move,
Japan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Leonard Cohen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Franke,
Thompson Twins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.