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 Ireland and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Holger Czukay 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 Jacob Miller to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Hoover,
Public Image Ltd.,
Connie Case,
Eric B and Rakim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Qualms,
Big Daddy Kane,
Girls At Our Best!,
Average White Band,
Blossom Toes,
The Pop Group,
Skaos,
The Zeros,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sparks,
Pere Ubu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeff Lynne,
Peter and Kerry,
Unwound,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kurtis Blow,
Lightning Bolt,
The Red Krayola,
Idris Muhammad,
Matthew Bourne,
The Cramps,
Shoche,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Flipper,
Dave Gahan,
Barry Ungar,
The Shadows of Knight,
ABBA,
One Last Wish,
Josef K,
Model 500,
Dennis Brown,
Electric Prunes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Underground Resistance,
Ponytail,
John Holt,
Nik Kershaw,
The Searchers,
Eddi Front,
kango's stein massive,
The Durutti Column,
Iggy Pop,
Spoonie Gee,
Roxette,
The Divine Comedy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Erykah Badu,
Soul Sonic Force,
Brass Construction,
Carl Craig,
Joe Smooth,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.