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 Mozambique and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 New Age Steppers 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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. 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?
Black Pus,
The Happenings,
Duran Duran,
Procol Harum,
Eli Mardock,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Slits,
Lalann,
Kayak,
Eurythmics,
48th St. Collective,
Sixth Finger,
Thompson Twins,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Move,
Pierre Henry,
Stiv Bators,
The Moleskins,
Wasted Youth,
Sam Rivers,
Bootsy Collins,
Arthur Verocai,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fire Engines,
Brass Construction,
Mad Mike,
The Star Department,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Moody Blues,
Susan Cadogan,
Slick Rick,
Hot Snakes,
Unrelated Segments,
Qualms,
The Mojo Men,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Erasure,
The Mummies,
The Smiths,
The Fortunes,
John Foxx,
Terry Callier,
Alice Coltrane,
Johnny Osbourne,
PIL,
Minny Pops,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Chrome,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Sonics,
The Skatalites,
Charles Mingus,
James White and The Blacks,
Radio Birdman,
Make Up,
Au Pairs,
Soulsonic Force,
Patti Smith,
Gang of Four,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.