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 Uruguay and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the grime 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Jawbox,
Carl Craig,
Rod Modell,
The Stooges,
Flipper,
Aloha Tigers,
Gabor Szabo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Country Teasers,
Depeche Mode,
Malaria!,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hasil Adkins,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Yusef Lateef,
These Immortal Souls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Audionom,
Public Enemy,
The Fire Engines,
Japan,
The Blackbyrds,
Moss Icon,
Cybotron,
Dave Gahan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lungfish,
Motorama,
Aural Exciters,
Matthew Halsall,
Roger Hodgson,
Unwound,
Roxy Music,
The Dead C,
Royal Trux,
Curtis Mayfield,
Stereo Dub,
The Red Krayola,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Althea and Donna,
Index,
Gang Starr,
Magma,
Donald Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
The Real Kids,
Simply Red,
Robert Görl,
Marcia Griffiths,
Silicon Teens,
X-101,
Scratch Acid,
Pussy Galore,
Massinfluence,
Section 25,
Nils Olav,
Maleditus Sound,
Pylon,
R.M.O.,
Sixth Finger,
Lou Reed,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.