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 Russia and from London.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 B.T. Express to the grunge 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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
48th St. Collective,
Roxette,
The Music Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
Guru Guru,
Model 500,
Television,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Youth Brigade,
Amon Düül,
Smog,
Babytalk,
The Blues Magoos,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Warren Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Quando Quango,
OOIOO,
the Association,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ponytail,
Chrome,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ossler,
Rekid,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sällskapet,
Moebius,
Moss Icon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang of Four,
Ronnie Foster,
Excepter,
Sight & Sound,
Outsiders,
Kurtis Blow,
EPMD,
A Certain Ratio,
The Stooges,
Eric Copeland,
Tres Demented,
Lyres,
June of 44,
Hasil Adkins,
John Coltrane,
Chris & Cosey,
Brothers Johnson,
Marmalade,
The Doors,
Rakim,
JFA,
Godley & Creme,
Arthur Verocai,
Nick Fraelich,
Bad Manners,
The Litter,
Brass Construction,
The Red Krayola,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Golliwogs,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.