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 Luxembourg 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Brand Nubian to the techno 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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lee Hazlewood,
Television,
The Motions,
Kaleidoscope,
Steve Hackett,
The American Breed,
Henry Cow,
Marine Girls,
Black Pus,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Royal Trux,
The Sonics,
Altered Images,
The Residents,
The Monks,
David Bowie,
Cluster,
Wings,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eric Dolphy,
The Fuzztones,
Drexciya,
Byron Stingily,
Tim Buckley,
Gabor Szabo,
The Dirtbombs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Womack,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Walker Brothers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Suburban Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ronan,
Underground Resistance,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Graham Central Station,
Camberwell Now,
Prince Buster,
Scratch Acid,
Rhythm & Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
The Kinks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Alison Limerick,
Easy Going,
Pulsallama,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scion,
Reagan Youth,
Malaria!,
Guru Guru,
Mars,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Music Machine,
Jacques Brel,
Panda Bear,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.