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 Kiribati and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin 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 Sällskapet to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Fat Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wings,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gong,
Jawbox,
The Birthday Party,
Magazine,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Todd Terry,
Hoover,
Lakeside,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Offenders,
Eric Copeland,
Urselle,
Darondo,
Junior Murvin,
Yaz,
Porter Ricks,
The Evens,
Crispy Ambulance,
Subhumans,
Agitation Free,
Organ,
Bush Tetras,
Skarface,
John Coltrane,
Average White Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Smiths,
The Cramps,
Marshall Jefferson,
Agent Orange,
Marc Almond,
Groovy Waters,
Danielle Patucci,
Wally Richardson,
John Cale,
Bob Dylan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Red Krayola,
Model 500,
Chrome,
The Invisible,
The Fall,
Rakim,
Cal Tjader,
Radiohead,
Radio Birdman,
The Barracudas,
Alison Limerick,
Davy DMX,
Faust,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ituana,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.