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 Somalia 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Icehouse to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Larry & the Blue Notes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Grauzone,
10cc,
Anakelly,
The Flesh Eaters,
Juan Atkins,
Terry Callier,
Cecil Taylor,
Chris Corsano,
Slave,
John Holt,
The Blackbyrds,
Roxy Music,
Visage,
Henry Cow,
the Normal,
Stetsasonic,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Wake,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tubeway Army,
JFA,
Drexciya,
Groovy Waters,
The Gladiators,
Glenn Branca,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Blues Magoos,
Parry Music,
Arcadia,
Surgeon,
La Düsseldorf,
Talk Talk,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mandrill,
Janne Schatter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June of 44,
Susan Cadogan,
Von Mondo,
Unrelated Segments,
Rotary Connection,
Hot Snakes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ornette Coleman,
Quando Quango,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultimate Spinach,
K-Klass,
The Saints,
The Associates,
Heaven 17,
Ossler,
Vainqueur,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacques Brel,
Scratch Acid,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bronski Beat,
PIL,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.