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 Congo and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blossom Toes to the rap 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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
The Sound,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Los Fastidios,
Robert Görl,
Scrapy,
The Seeds,
Nik Kershaw,
DJ Style,
Pantaleimon,
T. Rex,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fugazi,
Babytalk,
Marmalade,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Matthew Bourne,
Aural Exciters,
Hardrive,
Heaven 17,
Marvin Gaye,
Boredoms,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eli Mardock,
The Offenders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
D'Angelo,
New Order,
Todd Rundgren,
MC5,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Basic Channel,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bill Near,
The Remains,
John Coltrane,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dead C,
Jandek,
Terrestrial Tones,
X-101,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eric Copeland,
Boogie Down Productions,
Altered Images,
Erasure,
the Human League,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wally Richardson,
Anthony Braxton,
Kaleidoscope,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Music Machine,
ABBA,
48th St. Collective,
The Last Poets,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Selecter,
The Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.