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 Turkey and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes 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 Rufus Thomas to the rap 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Susan Cadogan,
Simply Red,
June Days,
Khruangbin,
The United States of America,
Andrew Hill,
The Golliwogs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sound,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gun Club,
Yaz,
Chris Corsano,
Shuggie Otis,
Half Japanese,
Inner City,
Q and Not U,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
CMW,
Trumans Water,
Monolake,
In Retrospect,
Minor Threat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Charles Mingus,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Barry Ungar,
Crispy Ambulance,
Magma,
Angry Samoans,
Fugazi,
Terry Callier,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Chrome,
Minnie Riperton,
Brothers Johnson,
Pulsallama,
Cameo,
X-102,
F. McDonald,
Amazonics,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scan 7,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Surgeon,
Black Moon,
Eric Dolphy,
The Offenders,
The Slits,
Suicide,
Deakin,
Leonard Cohen,
The Mummies,
Country Teasers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pagans,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.