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 Barbados and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Pierre Henry,
Morten Harket,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Slits,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Suicide,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tommy Roe,
Animal Collective,
Buzzcocks,
Mars,
The Fugs,
John Cale,
Ronnie Foster,
Tears for Fears,
Cheater Slicks,
The Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
FM Einheit,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Star Department,
The Red Krayola,
Japan,
Wings,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gabor Szabo,
Arcadia,
Unwound,
Donald Byrd,
Heaven 17,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Suburban Knight,
Flipper,
Archie Shepp,
Man Parrish,
MC5,
the Swans,
Deepchord,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minor Threat,
Tropical Tobacco,
Anthony Braxton,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Todd Terry,
Blake Baxter,
Saccharine Trust,
Au Pairs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Make Up,
Skarface,
Susan Cadogan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bronski Beat,
DNA,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Sonics,
Severed Heads,
Roxy Music,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.