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 Estonia and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 oboe 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 The Count Five to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
The Seeds,
Buzzcocks,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Neon Judgement,
a-ha,
Alton Ellis,
Drive Like Jehu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Icehouse,
Alice Coltrane,
Moss Icon,
Scion,
Panda Bear,
Stiv Bators,
Judy Mowatt,
EPMD,
The Music Machine,
Donny Hathaway,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
Henry Cow,
Jerry's Kids,
Grey Daturas,
Archie Shepp,
Yaz,
Swans,
Bob Dylan,
Minutemen,
Flipper,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lungfish,
Khruangbin,
Hoover,
Q and Not U,
Spandau Ballet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sight & Sound,
Scientists,
Stereo Dub,
T.S.O.L.,
Godley & Creme,
The Velvet Underground,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Piero Umiliani,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lower 48,
The Dead C,
Pierre Henry,
The Slackers,
Cluster,
Andrew Hill,
Eric B and Rakim,
Frankie Knuckles,
Banda Bassotti,
Brick,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.