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 Bhutan and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 mellotron 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 Magazine to the punk 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Sight & Sound,
Desert Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Monks,
Boz Scaggs,
The Golliwogs,
Sam Rivers,
Albert Ayler,
Pagans,
Loose Ends,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Masters at Work,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
June of 44,
Ultravox,
Inner City,
Gabor Szabo,
The Evens,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Star Department,
Fat Boys,
Clear Light,
Kaleidoscope,
Black Pus,
Siglo XX,
Pere Ubu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Sneak,
the Soft Cell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pylon,
The Smiths,
Delta 5,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pantytec,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roxette,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Flag,
Tubeway Army,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Leaves,
Y Pants,
Royal Trux,
8 Eyed Spy,
La Düsseldorf,
The Offenders,
Can,
Stiv Bators,
Outsiders,
Soft Cell,
Funkadelic,
Marine Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Tom Boy,
John Lydon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.