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 Guinea and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythm & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Alphaville,
Juan Atkins,
The Tremeloes,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Neon Judgement,
Patti Smith,
Fugazi,
The Fortunes,
The Divine Comedy,
Dave Gahan,
Barrington Levy,
the Soft Cell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
DJ Style,
Absolute Body Control,
Blake Baxter,
Faust,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Agitation Free,
Dead Boys,
Gregory Isaacs,
Boz Scaggs,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Davy DMX,
Royal Trux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Mills,
Alton Ellis,
R.M.O.,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Young Marble Giants,
The Buckinghams,
Zero Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Crispian St. Peters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bill Near,
Chrome,
Archie Shepp,
Stiv Bators,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Real Kids,
Pantaleimon,
Skriet,
Cluster,
Camberwell Now,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hasil Adkins,
Goldenarms,
Lucky Dragons,
Jacob Miller,
Kerri Chandler,
Lee Hazlewood,
Silicon Teens,
Scratch Acid,
Peter & Gordon,
Animal Collective,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.