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 Bahrain and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Cairo.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 A Certain Ratio to the crunk 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Radio Birdman,
The Fugs,
The Red Krayola,
Eve St. Jones,
Banda Bassotti,
Jeff Lynne,
Al Stewart,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fluxion,
Eric Copeland,
T. Rex,
World's Most,
Patti Smith,
The Cure,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fear,
Spoonie Gee,
Angry Samoans,
Tommy Roe,
Heaven 17,
Connie Case,
Aswad,
Vladislav Delay,
ABC,
The Dead C,
Donny Hathaway,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
E-Dancer,
Symarip,
Oblivians,
Arab on Radar,
Ten City,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gories,
Neil Young,
Funky Four + One,
The Monochrome Set,
Grandmaster Flash,
Infiniti,
John Cale,
Lightning Bolt,
Mad Mike,
Silicon Teens,
Ice-T,
Metal Thangz,
Derrick Morgan,
UT,
the Bar-Kays,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Public Enemy,
Crash Course in Science,
Moby Grape,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.