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 Botswana and from Tehran.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe 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 Barry Ungar to the techno 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
The Misunderstood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
LL Cool J,
Talk Talk,
T.S.O.L.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Black Sheep,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gichy Dan,
Gong,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Liliput,
Chris & Cosey,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacob Miller,
Warsaw,
Altered Images,
Outsiders,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Livin' Joy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pet Shop Boys,
Motorama,
Supertramp,
Circle Jerks,
Jeff Mills,
Black Flag,
The Techniques,
Todd Terry,
Robert Görl,
Nirvana,
The Fugs,
The New Christs,
Juan Atkins,
Tears for Fears,
AZ,
Saccharine Trust,
The Monks,
Can,
The Kinks,
Tommy Roe,
The Electric Prunes,
Underground Resistance,
The Shadows of Knight,
Symarip,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Tremeloes,
Nas,
Marshall Jefferson,
Y Pants,
Ultravox,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Music Machine,
The Sonics,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Niagra,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.