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 Zambia and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Dirtbombs to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Soft Machine,
Ultravox,
Jawbox,
Oneida,
Funkadelic,
Soul Sonic Force,
Max Romeo,
Vainqueur,
Pagans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lou Christie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Excepter,
Glenn Branca,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Faraquet,
John Lydon,
Alton Ellis,
Swell Maps,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gap Band,
Chris Corsano,
Pierre Henry,
The Cure,
Urselle,
Radio Birdman,
Ken Boothe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fluxion,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Graham Central Station,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mighty Diamonds,
U.S. Maple,
Bang On A Can,
The Red Krayola,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nico,
the Normal,
Hardrive,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Womack,
Aswad,
Eli Mardock,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sam Rivers,
Dead Boys,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moby Grape,
Ludus,
The Sound,
The Mojo Men,
Al Stewart,
Joyce Sims,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.