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 Brazil and from Calgary.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bizarre Inc. to the grunge 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Blackbyrds,
Ultravox,
Jacques Brel,
Roxette,
The Zeros,
The Five Americans,
The Sound,
Althea and Donna,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
New Order,
Gang of Four,
H. Thieme,
Wolf Eyes,
CMW,
Minny Pops,
Model 500,
Rakim,
These Immortal Souls,
Sun Ra,
Alice Coltrane,
The Blues Magoos,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pretty Things,
The Dead C,
Amon Düül II,
The Offenders,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Television Personalities,
Flipper,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bob Dylan,
Black Sheep,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nirvana,
Ohio Players,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wasted Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jimmy McGriff,
Con Funk Shun,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ten City,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grey Daturas,
Stiv Bators,
Aloha Tigers,
Patti Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Byron Stingily,
Archie Shepp,
Duran Duran,
Wings,
The Knickerbockers,
Crooked Eye,
Frankie Knuckles,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band.
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.