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 Sierra Leone and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 B.T. Express to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minny Pops,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Das Ding,
Darondo,
Connie Case,
Pussy Galore,
The Victims,
The Gap Band,
Bob Dylan,
Lightning Bolt,
The Vogues,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skarface,
the Normal,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Patti Smith,
Au Pairs,
Moby Grape,
Amon Düül II,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Womack,
Mantronix,
Tim Buckley,
Glambeats Corp.,
Shoche,
Gang Gang Dance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Lydon,
The Move,
The Fall,
Terry Callier,
DJ Sneak,
Second Layer,
Deadbeat,
Mandrill,
John Holt,
Pagans,
Stetsasonic,
Scientists,
Aswad,
Robert Wyatt,
Barry Ungar,
Slick Rick,
Erasure,
Tears for Fears,
Joey Negro,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Star Department,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Public Enemy,
Swans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yazoo,
Todd Rundgren,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.