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 Venezuela and from Bologna.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Half Japanese to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Freddie Wadling,
Smog,
Mantronix,
Pagans,
Pussy Galore,
The Fortunes,
CMW,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jerry's Kids,
Hashim,
David Bowie,
FM Einheit,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Brothers Johnson,
Magma,
John Lydon,
Deakin,
Glambeats Corp.,
X-Ray Spex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Connie Case,
Moby Grape,
X-101,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kurtis Blow,
Nico,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brick,
The United States of America,
Marmalade,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The New Christs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Prince Buster,
Reuben Wilson,
Skarface,
The Dead C,
Qualms,
Aloha Tigers,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Gang Dance,
Howard Jones,
Marshall Jefferson,
Don Cherry,
Aaron Thompson,
U.S. Maple,
The Doors,
Main Source,
Whodini,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Sound,
Swans,
Nation of Ulysses,
Althea and Donna,
Stockholm Monsters,
Index,
Donny Hathaway,
The Mummies,
Scrapy,
Swell Maps,
Supertramp,
Black Flag,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.