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 Mali and from Philadelphia.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Standells to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
The Saints,
DJ Sneak,
MDC,
Connie Case,
Gang of Four,
Duran Duran,
The Doobie Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Soft Machine,
Faust,
Swans,
Unwound,
Rakim,
The Techniques,
Quando Quango,
8 Eyed Spy,
Main Source,
Pantytec,
Average White Band,
Section 25,
Easy Going,
Toni Rubio,
China Crisis,
Darondo,
The Trojans,
Blake Baxter,
Gichy Dan,
Heaven 17,
Davy DMX,
Archie Shepp,
David Bowie,
The Selecter,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Moon,
Pantaleimon,
Wolf Eyes,
The Doors,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ornette Coleman,
Chris & Cosey,
Eli Mardock,
Colin Newman,
Hashim,
Monolake,
Gang Starr,
Don Cherry,
Boogie Down Productions,
Shuggie Otis,
Kenny Larkin,
Tommy Roe,
Das Ding,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fortunes,
the Swans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cluster,
Scratch Acid,
The Busters,
Yaz,
La Düsseldorf,
Boz Scaggs,
The Red Krayola,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.