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 Zambia and from Paris.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sixth Finger,
The Busters,
The Red Krayola,
Black Sheep,
The Sonics,
Black Moon,
The Invisible,
The Angels of Light,
Sonic Youth,
Henry Cow,
Patti Smith,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Pretty Things,
the Soft Cell,
The Selecter,
Motorama,
Yaz,
Soft Cell,
The Monks,
Rufus Thomas,
David Bowie,
Jeru the Damaja,
CMW,
Jimmy McGriff,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grandmaster Flash,
These Immortal Souls,
Barry Ungar,
Los Fastidios,
The American Breed,
X-101,
Mr. Review,
Roger Hodgson,
Letta Mbulu,
Minny Pops,
Joensuu 1685,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Trumans Water,
Sandy B,
Kayak,
Rites of Spring,
Public Image Ltd.,
Swell Maps,
Negative Approach,
The Misunderstood,
Khruangbin,
Blancmange,
Faraquet,
Half Japanese,
Toni Rubio,
Oblivians,
Erykah Badu,
Sex Pistols,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grauzone,
Sight & Sound,
Organ,
Maleditus Sound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.