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 Israel and from Lille.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Nirvana to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Todd Terry,
Pussy Galore,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Smoke,
Gerry Rafferty,
Japan,
Stereo Dub,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gichy Dan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Misunderstood,
Scott Walker,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marc Almond,
Lungfish,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sun Ra,
Dark Day,
Dead Boys,
Avey Tare,
DNA,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sister Nancy,
Grey Daturas,
The Fuzztones,
Sonic Youth,
Excepter,
The Seeds,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arthur Verocai,
The Wake,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
PIL,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultra Naté,
The Techniques,
The Alarm Clocks,
La Düsseldorf,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Terry Callier,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moby Grape,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Divine Comedy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Can,
Neu!,
Peter and Kerry,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Peter & Gordon,
Siglo XX,
Echospace,
Connie Case,
Jerry's Kids,
John Holt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deakin,
Scrapy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.