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 Cyprus and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pagans to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tres Demented,
The J.B.'s,
Lower 48,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fad Gadget,
Yazoo,
Bush Tetras,
The Monochrome Set,
Deadbeat,
Masters at Work,
In Retrospect,
Siglo XX,
Roxette,
Todd Terry,
Al Stewart,
Altered Images,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mo-Dettes,
Deepchord,
Cecil Taylor,
Toni Rubio,
Brick,
ABC,
Black Sheep,
John Holt,
The Gories,
Fatback Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Public Enemy,
This Heat,
Nirvana,
Reagan Youth,
Symarip,
Flipper,
Pole,
Sam Rivers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nils Olav,
Interpol,
Swans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Accadde A,
Roxy Music,
Aural Exciters,
Juan Atkins,
Thompson Twins,
The Real Kids,
Newcleus,
Black Flag,
Lou Christie,
Rapeman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cluster,
Make Up,
Ultravox,
Little Man,
Vladislav Delay,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cal Tjader,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Trumans Water,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.