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 Denmark and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 clarinet 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 Pantytec to the grime 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Kenny Larkin,
The Blackbyrds,
Fela Kuti,
Infiniti,
UT,
Delta 5,
Motorama,
Rekid,
Mo-Dettes,
Terry Callier,
Althea and Donna,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Pop Group,
Masters at Work,
Derrick May,
Scrapy,
The Saints,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tears for Fears,
Rosa Yemen,
Smog,
Jeff Mills,
Television Personalities,
Sister Nancy,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Litter,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tomorrow,
MC5,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Buckinghams,
Gichy Dan,
Dual Sessions,
Lyres,
Marc Almond,
Lindisfarne,
Yusef Lateef,
Todd Terry,
Sex Pistols,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ultravox,
James White and The Blacks,
Bill Wells,
Amazonics,
Toni Rubio,
Moebius,
The Victims,
Jacob Miller,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
June Days,
Peter and Kerry,
The Seeds,
Pylon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Golliwogs,
EPMD,
Gang of Four,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
Model 500,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.