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 Ethiopia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gregory Isaacs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Arthur Verocai,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Make Up,
The New Christs,
Susan Cadogan,
10cc,
Harpers Bizarre,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Offenders,
Matthew Halsall,
PIL,
The Count Five,
The Last Poets,
Electric Prunes,
Minutemen,
In Retrospect,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ice-T,
Stiv Bators,
Arcadia,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moby Grape,
Derrick May,
Oneida,
John Lydon,
Bootsy Collins,
Scratch Acid,
The Invisible,
John Cale,
Siglo XX,
Fela Kuti,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sarah Menescal,
The Happenings,
Sandy B,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Real Kids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sight & Sound,
Flipper,
Kenny Larkin,
The Vogues,
The Leaves,
Agent Orange,
the Human League,
Joe Smooth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Yellowson,
Bobby Sherman,
Lou Christie,
Agitation Free,
Dead Boys,
Chris & Cosey,
Connie Case,
Henry Cow,
Outsiders,
Lindisfarne,
The Durutti Column,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.