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 Nauru and from Glasgow.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Cecil Taylor to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains 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?
Mark Hollis,
Nas,
The Doors,
Sound Behaviour,
Metal Thangz,
Outsiders,
Freddie Wadling,
Radiopuhelimet,
Brand Nubian,
Camberwell Now,
Peter & Gordon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeru the Damaja,
Maleditus Sound,
Magazine,
Sun Ra,
the Fania All-Stars,
B.T. Express,
Banda Bassotti,
Can,
X-102,
Glenn Branca,
LL Cool J,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mad Mike,
Black Bananas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fuzztones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Chris Corsano,
Letta Mbulu,
Scion,
Interpol,
Arthur Verocai,
Byron Stingily,
Tomorrow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minutemen,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Electric Prunes,
Suburban Knight,
The Birthday Party,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The United States of America,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kaleidoscope,
David McCallum,
Arcadia,
Fatback Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Warren Ellis,
Robert Hood,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marine Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Sheep,
Harpers Bizarre,
Anthony Braxton,
Negative Approach,
John Holt,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.