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 Indonesia 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Michelle Simonal to the rap 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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sam Rivers,
Robert Hood,
Skarface,
The Beau Brummels,
Motorama,
Minnie Riperton,
Eurythmics,
The Fugs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Second Layer,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Peter and Kerry,
Index,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Judy Mowatt,
Siglo XX,
Vladislav Delay,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Saints,
Pagans,
David Axelrod,
The Zeros,
Moby Grape,
Godley & Creme,
Gong,
Rites of Spring,
Masters at Work,
Tres Demented,
The Searchers,
UT,
Suburban Knight,
Slave,
Sugar Minott,
Lungfish,
T. Rex,
Animal Collective,
Archie Shepp,
The Index,
Arcadia,
Drexciya,
June of 44,
Mo-Dettes,
Letta Mbulu,
Slick Rick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül II,
Qualms,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Walker Brothers,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Boredoms,
Ronan,
Barry Ungar,
The Sonics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Silicon Teens,
Suicide,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.