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 Thailand and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Swans to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Ossler,
Tres Demented,
Tubeway Army,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Fugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Real Kids,
Barrington Levy,
R.M.O.,
Roxy Music,
Mission of Burma,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Newcleus,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Parry Music,
Circle Jerks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Christie,
Saccharine Trust,
Little Man,
Black Moon,
Blancmange,
The Motions,
Mantronix,
Peter & Gordon,
D'Angelo,
Shoche,
Barbara Tucker,
The Trojans,
Lyres,
Piero Umiliani,
Ohio Players,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hoover,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roger Hodgson,
Bush Tetras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Infiniti,
Q and Not U,
The Knickerbockers,
The Gories,
Todd Rundgren,
Eurythmics,
Mr. Review,
The Sound,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Normal,
Freddie Wadling,
New York Dolls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Saints,
Das Ding,
B.T. Express,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.