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 Brunei and from Spokane.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the funk 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
The Grass Roots,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Royal Trux,
Barclay James Harvest,
Index,
The Gun Club,
Yaz,
Oblivians,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sex Pistols,
Joey Negro,
F. McDonald,
Aural Exciters,
The Invisible,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alphaville,
Mo-Dettes,
Iggy Pop,
Nico,
T.S.O.L.,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cecil Taylor,
CMW,
The Sound,
Icehouse,
Pierre Henry,
E-Dancer,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantaleimon,
Goldenarms,
The Names,
Moby Grape,
The Offenders,
Pulsallama,
Connie Case,
Silicon Teens,
The Golliwogs,
Black Moon,
DJ Sneak,
Basic Channel,
The Index,
Depeche Mode,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
JFA,
Rakim,
Sixth Finger,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arcadia,
Hashim,
Darondo,
Mandrill,
The Five Americans,
D'Angelo,
The Leaves,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Trumans Water,
Delon & Dalcan,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.