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 Korea North and from London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 the Germs to the techno 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Fatback Band,
Newcleus,
Pylon,
The Monks,
Magma,
Bobby Byrd,
Popol Vuh,
John Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Silicon Teens,
Gerry Rafferty,
China Crisis,
The Divine Comedy,
Pole,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Clear Light,
Robert Wyatt,
ABBA,
Absolute Body Control,
Electric Prunes,
The Dead C,
Throbbing Gristle,
Chris Corsano,
Alphaville,
John Foxx,
Mr. Review,
Black Sheep,
Letta Mbulu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ice-T,
Heaven 17,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Yaz,
Neil Young,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kool Moe Dee,
Y Pants,
Robert Hood,
LL Cool J,
Interpol,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Terrestrial Tones,
Henry Cow,
The J.B.'s,
Soul Sonic Force,
June Days,
Andrew Hill,
Visage,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
L. Decosne,
Blossom Toes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Glenn Branca,
MDC,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Offenders,
Second Layer,
Ultravox,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.