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 Macedonia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Max Romeo to the disco 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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barry Ungar,
Gichy Dan,
Lungfish,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Seeds,
Suburban Knight,
The Gun Club,
The Toasters,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
The Barracudas,
Metal Thangz,
Nils Olav,
Ultra Naté,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Chris Corsano,
Pet Shop Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gastr Del Sol,
Morten Harket,
Buzzcocks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
ABBA,
The United States of America,
Neu!,
The American Breed,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Section 25,
The Misunderstood,
Basic Channel,
Trumans Water,
Yellowson,
Thompson Twins,
Pantytec,
Eve St. Jones,
Camouflage,
Maurizio,
Black Sheep,
June Days,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eurythmics,
The Trojans,
Bauhaus,
The Saints,
Nas,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kaleidoscope,
K-Klass,
Qualms,
Howard Jones,
The Techniques,
Accadde A,
Eli Mardock,
Flipper,
Jeff Lynne,
The Leaves,
The Modern Lovers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Livin' Joy,
the Soft Cell,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.