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 Maldives and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
John Holt,
Wolf Eyes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Urselle,
Desert Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Absolute Body Control,
Interpol,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Offenders,
The Durutti Column,
Mission of Burma,
Roger Hodgson,
In Retrospect,
The Slackers,
Basic Channel,
Scion,
The Remains,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sister Nancy,
Eric Copeland,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Velvet Underground,
These Immortal Souls,
Cecil Taylor,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pussy Galore,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Neil Young,
Ultravox,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
James Chance & The Contortions,
K-Klass,
Sixth Finger,
Janne Schatter,
Marine Girls,
Average White Band,
Mandrill,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Cramps,
Wire,
Moebius,
Altered Images,
Idris Muhammad,
Funkadelic,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
New Age Steppers,
Swans,
The Cure,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Soft Cell,
The Smoke,
Organ,
The Gun Club,
Amazonics,
Television Personalities,
David Axelrod,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.