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 Italy and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 Gil Scott Heron to the funk 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Jacob Miller,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fuzztones,
Prince Buster,
H. Thieme,
Shuggie Otis,
Flamin' Groovies,
World's Most,
The Mummies,
Youth Brigade,
Suburban Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Porter Ricks,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Reagan Youth,
Soft Machine,
Bush Tetras,
LL Cool J,
The Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sällskapet,
MC5,
Symarip,
John Coltrane,
The Dirtbombs,
Interpol,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Move,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Clear Light,
The Residents,
Minutemen,
Barrington Levy,
Fela Kuti,
The Gun Club,
Kenny Larkin,
Fugazi,
The Red Krayola,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ossler,
The Trojans,
Fat Boys,
Donny Hathaway,
Cecil Taylor,
D'Angelo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
June Days,
Sight & Sound,
KRS-One,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Womack,
Chris Corsano,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
CMW,
U.S. Maple,
Stiv Bators,
Subhumans,
The J.B.'s,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.