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 the UAE and from Toronto.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the jazz 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minor Threat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Cramps,
The Star Department,
Roger Hodgson,
Porter Ricks,
Juan Atkins,
F. McDonald,
Livin' Joy,
Subhumans,
Chris & Cosey,
Eli Mardock,
Joey Negro,
Hoover,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Saints,
Cheater Slicks,
Flash Fearless,
Sun Ra,
Duran Duran,
Ohio Players,
The Knickerbockers,
Aural Exciters,
Todd Terry,
Iggy Pop,
Minnie Riperton,
Con Funk Shun,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Starr,
LL Cool J,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Drexciya,
Chris Corsano,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Smoke,
The Cure,
Tropical Tobacco,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Durutti Column,
Hot Snakes,
John Holt,
Todd Rundgren,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cybotron,
Isaac Hayes,
Kerri Chandler,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fela Kuti,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brick,
Faraquet,
John Lydon,
Prince Buster,
Simply Red,
Rites of Spring,
Mad Mike,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Vainqueur,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.