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 Kuwait and from Paris.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dead Boys to the jazz 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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Aaron Thompson,
Buzzcocks,
The Golliwogs,
Soulsonic Force,
The Smiths,
Erykah Badu,
Hoover,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Misunderstood,
Malaria!,
Camberwell Now,
Fad Gadget,
The Angels of Light,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Invisible,
Liliput,
Robert Hood,
Andrew Hill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nik Kershaw,
Aswad,
Ralphi Rosario,
Electric Prunes,
Dave Gahan,
Excepter,
Stetsasonic,
Drive Like Jehu,
Whodini,
The Mojo Men,
Rites of Spring,
The Victims,
The Sonics,
Parry Music,
Easy Going,
the Normal,
DNA,
Barrington Levy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Selecter,
David McCallum,
Shuggie Otis,
The Buckinghams,
Sixth Finger,
The Slackers,
The Raincoats,
DJ Sneak,
Kurtis Blow,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Unwound,
Radiopuhelimet,
E-Dancer,
The Black Dice,
Rapeman,
Big Daddy Kane,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Negative Approach,
Kerri Chandler,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.