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 Monaco and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 guitar 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 Electric Prunes to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alton Ellis,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Slits,
A Certain Ratio,
The Martian,
Funky Four + One,
Sixth Finger,
Malaria!,
Matthew Bourne,
Das Ding,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deepchord,
Sound Behaviour,
The Litter,
Rekid,
The Music Machine,
Supertramp,
Moss Icon,
Pole,
Kenny Larkin,
Black Sheep,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Slits,
Sugar Minott,
Brick,
Quando Quango,
Pere Ubu,
Quadrant,
Kaleidoscope,
R.M.O.,
Henry Cow,
Jerry's Kids,
Newcleus,
Whodini,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sällskapet,
Ohio Players,
Kas Product,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grey Daturas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Josef K,
Blancmange,
James White and The Blacks,
Index,
Hot Snakes,
Gong,
The Mummies,
Mission of Burma,
Carl Craig,
Lou Reed,
T. Rex,
Brothers Johnson,
Metal Thangz,
the Bar-Kays,
The Trojans,
Yellowson,
The Blackbyrds,
Peter & Gordon,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.