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 Mongolia and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Don Cherry to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Scion,
Mad Mike,
Throbbing Gristle,
Duran Duran,
Buzzcocks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kas Product,
Bobby Hutcherson,
These Immortal Souls,
Eddi Front,
Lakeside,
Fat Boys,
June of 44,
The Cramps,
Alton Ellis,
the Germs,
Ituana,
Yazoo,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Count Five,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Suburban Knight,
Circle Jerks,
Youth Brigade,
The Fire Engines,
Y Pants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Television,
Procol Harum,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick May,
Maurizio,
Moby Grape,
Gichy Dan,
Deadbeat,
Scott Walker,
Barrington Levy,
The Five Americans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minny Pops,
Masters at Work,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Grass Roots,
The Move,
Thompson Twins,
Rod Modell,
Ornette Coleman,
Brothers Johnson,
Lower 48,
Gong,
Grey Daturas,
Letta Mbulu,
The Fugs,
Jeff Lynne,
Tears for Fears,
Spoonie Gee,
Marcia Griffiths,
Connie Case,
Schoolly D,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.