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 Honduras and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ 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 Thompson Twins to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
The Dead C,
Crispian St. Peters,
Henry Cow,
The Motions,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Vainqueur,
The Shadows of Knight,
Radiopuhelimet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Slackers,
Kurtis Blow,
The Victims,
Nirvana,
the Association,
Joe Smooth,
Soft Cell,
Agitation Free,
Grauzone,
Suburban Knight,
Guru Guru,
Intrusion,
Pagans,
Audionom,
Tomorrow,
Eddi Front,
Dark Day,
The Red Krayola,
Gang Starr,
The Trojans,
Maurizio,
Minny Pops,
48th St. Collective,
Television,
Rhythm & Sound,
Carl Craig,
Johnny Clarke,
Bauhaus,
These Immortal Souls,
Barry Ungar,
Icehouse,
UT,
Bob Dylan,
Ossler,
Moby Grape,
The Detroit Cobras,
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
Derrick Morgan,
Siglo XX,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sällskapet,
Fat Boys,
Dawn Penn,
Angry Samoans,
Organ,
Wings,
Anthony Braxton,
Blake Baxter,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.