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 New Zealand and from Manila.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Maleditus Sound 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 Fall. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
The Human League,
Thompson Twins,
Hashim,
Roger Hodgson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Names,
the Human League,
Qualms,
Crime,
Archie Shepp,
Spoonie Gee,
Malaria!,
Rites of Spring,
Au Pairs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sight & Sound,
Supertramp,
Cecil Taylor,
T. Rex,
Y Pants,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grey Daturas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fat Boys,
Sun Ra,
Isaac Hayes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dark Day,
The Fugs,
Lalann,
Throbbing Gristle,
Young Marble Giants,
Albert Ayler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pagans,
The Trojans,
Groovy Waters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Smoke,
Lou Reed,
Can,
Pantytec,
Mark Hollis,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-101,
The Fortunes,
Hardrive,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
OOIOO,
Cheater Slicks,
Oneida,
The Sonics,
Chris Corsano,
Scrapy,
Altered Images,
Rufus Thomas,
Ossler,
Jeff Mills,
Deadbeat,
the Normal,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.