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 Dominican Republic and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Holger Czukay 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 Moebius to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Basic Channel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kerrie Biddell,
Inner City,
Stiv Bators,
Camouflage,
Jeff Mills,
The Fire Engines,
Mandrill,
Joe Finger,
Rod Modell,
The Wake,
Pylon,
Procol Harum,
The Kinks,
Negative Approach,
Pussy Galore,
Hashim,
Hasil Adkins,
Nils Olav,
Cluster,
The Victims,
Arthur Verocai,
Sam Rivers,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barry Ungar,
Lakeside,
The Dirtbombs,
The Standells,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Khruangbin,
Lindisfarne,
Essential Logic,
The Techniques,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Parry Music,
John Cale,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Arab on Radar,
Eli Mardock,
Technova,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Faraquet,
Yusef Lateef,
Public Enemy,
Warsaw,
Jeff Lynne,
Radiohead,
Nas,
Josef K,
The Sound,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Clear Light,
Make Up,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.