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 Laos and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Beau Brummels,
The Real Kids,
Interpol,
Siglo XX,
Essential Logic,
Faust,
Lyres,
The Blues Magoos,
Spoonie Gee,
The Angels of Light,
Man Parrish,
Harry Pussy,
Roger Hodgson,
Average White Band,
Bootsy Collins,
Henry Cow,
Chris Corsano,
Bad Manners,
Bronski Beat,
Black Pus,
John Cale,
Delon & Dalcan,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Bananas,
The Toasters,
B.T. Express,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wire,
Motorama,
Moebius,
Deakin,
The Fall,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
DNA,
Porter Ricks,
Tomorrow,
MC5,
Massinfluence,
Warren Ellis,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Selecter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lalann,
Franke,
Swell Maps,
X-101,
Eurythmics,
Mission of Burma,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Gories,
Archie Shepp,
The Cramps,
Blossom Toes,
The Moody Blues,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Moleskins,
Sex Pistols,
Howard Jones,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The New Christs,
Suicide,
The Offenders,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.