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 Mauritius 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Marshall Jefferson to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mission of Burma,
The Associates,
Mr. Review,
The Smoke,
Jerry's Kids,
Howard Jones,
Skaos,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Quando Quango,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crash Course in Science,
Patti Smith,
DNA,
Rekid,
Tears for Fears,
John Holt,
Terry Callier,
Guru Guru,
Radio Birdman,
Isaac Hayes,
The Monks,
Tim Buckley,
Boredoms,
Rites of Spring,
Unrelated Segments,
World's Most,
Big Daddy Kane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Massinfluence,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Move,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Music Machine,
Youth Brigade,
The Fuzztones,
Scratch Acid,
Moebius,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bronski Beat,
New Age Steppers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radiohead,
The Vogues,
F. McDonald,
The Durutti Column,
Flipper,
Pylon,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eli Mardock,
Kurtis Blow,
Banda Bassotti,
The Saints,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Motorama,
The Victims,
Stetsasonic,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.