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 Djibouti 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Surgeon to the disco 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Clear Light,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sister Nancy,
Warsaw,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Severed Heads,
This Heat,
Faraquet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
CMW,
The American Breed,
Livin' Joy,
Crash Course in Science,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mission of Burma,
The Offenders,
The Fire Engines,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gun Club,
Blake Baxter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Von Mondo,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
New Order,
Lyres,
Moss Icon,
The Mojo Men,
The Index,
The Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
Black Bananas,
David McCallum,
Marmalade,
Leonard Cohen,
Anthony Braxton,
The United States of America,
Minor Threat,
Avey Tare,
The Durutti Column,
Sixth Finger,
Ronnie Foster,
Agent Orange,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tommy Roe,
Marc Almond,
the Soft Cell,
UT,
Gong,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pantaleimon,
Make Up,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rites of Spring,
Reuben Wilson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Second Layer,
Arab on Radar,
Sun Ra,
The Misunderstood,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.