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 Brunei and from Taipei.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Altered Images to the rap 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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Maleditus Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Robert Görl,
Little Man,
Eve St. Jones,
Masters at Work,
Vladislav Delay,
Aural Exciters,
Ultra Naté,
Motorama,
Half Japanese,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radio Birdman,
Arcadia,
the Normal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Silicon Teens,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Boredoms,
Amon Düül II,
Technova,
Donald Byrd,
Cluster,
Freddie Wadling,
Terrestrial Tones,
David Bowie,
Y Pants,
Gang Starr,
The Sonics,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alison Limerick,
Idris Muhammad,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Vainqueur,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Jawbox,
Crooked Eye,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cheater Slicks,
John Coltrane,
The Electric Prunes,
Porter Ricks,
The Invisible,
Urselle,
Althea and Donna,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Saccharine Trust,
EPMD,
Girls At Our Best!,
Magazine,
Godley & Creme,
David Axelrod,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band.
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.