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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Skriet to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mojo Men,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wally Richardson,
The Residents,
The Black Dice,
Henry Cow,
The New Christs,
Au Pairs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lou Reed,
Crooked Eye,
Yusef Lateef,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tim Buckley,
Das Ding,
Kerrie Biddell,
Angry Samoans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Model 500,
the Bar-Kays,
Mo-Dettes,
Mark Hollis,
Eve St. Jones,
John Cale,
The Monks,
Jandek,
PIL,
New Order,
The Techniques,
Ken Boothe,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Martian,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mantronix,
Andrew Hill,
Hoover,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rapeman,
Susan Cadogan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pussy Galore,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare,
Amazonics,
Porter Ricks,
Negative Approach,
Nas,
Bill Near,
Dead Boys,
Slave,
Lou Christie,
Skriet,
Gong,
Judy Mowatt,
Dave Gahan,
Liliput,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.