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 Uzbekistan and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet 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 Lalann to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Pere Ubu,
Mr. Review,
Khruangbin,
Zero Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Ludus,
The Trojans,
Das Ding,
Accadde A,
Thompson Twins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mars,
Junior Murvin,
Little Man,
Siglo XX,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radiohead,
Michelle Simonal,
Oblivians,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Happenings,
Au Pairs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
David Axelrod,
The Toasters,
Sixth Finger,
UT,
Patti Smith,
Minor Threat,
Charles Mingus,
Niagra,
Symarip,
Minny Pops,
Spandau Ballet,
John Cale,
Pantytec,
Deakin,
Buzzcocks,
Neil Young,
Newcleus,
Television Personalities,
Don Cherry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nirvana,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Sound,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Circle Jerks,
Pylon,
Brothers Johnson,
Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Glenn Branca,
Tommy Roe,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Golliwogs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Victims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.