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 United Kingdom and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 PIL to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Symarip,
Reuben Wilson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Country Teasers,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Victims,
Altered Images,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter and Kerry,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Wake,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marvin Gaye,
Warsaw,
the Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantaleimon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Moby Grape,
Todd Rundgren,
the Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol,
Anakelly,
Deakin,
Sight & Sound,
These Immortal Souls,
John Cale,
Lindisfarne,
Wasted Youth,
The Count Five,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joe Finger,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Procol Harum,
Arthur Verocai,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Vogues,
Patti Smith,
Nick Fraelich,
The Walker Brothers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Accadde A,
Surgeon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bob Dylan,
Freddie Wadling,
Newcleus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crispy Ambulance,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.