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 Ghana and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Black Pus to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
DJ Style,
The Tremeloes,
Youth Brigade,
CMW,
Kayak,
Yazoo,
The Music Machine,
Ornette Coleman,
Circle Jerks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Fall,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eve St. Jones,
Adolescents,
Warren Ellis,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cowsills,
MDC,
Tres Demented,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Accadde A,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Metal Thangz,
Pagans,
Quadrant,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Womack,
The Dead C,
John Lydon,
The Black Dice,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Loose Ends,
Al Stewart,
Camberwell Now,
Ronnie Foster,
Con Funk Shun,
Blossom Toes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Procol Harum,
Bootsy Collins,
Dave Gahan,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Pus,
Althea and Donna,
Faraquet,
Royal Trux,
Faust,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
Grey Daturas,
The Cramps,
Radiopuhelimet,
Juan Atkins,
Nick Fraelich,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.