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 Tonga and from Tokyo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nik Kershaw to the jazz 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Brick,
Grandmaster Flash,
David Bowie,
The Star Department,
The Dirtbombs,
Make Up,
Wolf Eyes,
Boredoms,
The Gories,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Durutti Column,
David Axelrod,
Albert Ayler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Morten Harket,
the Slits,
a-ha,
Black Moon,
Tubeway Army,
Laurel Aitken,
Roger Hodgson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Archie Shepp,
Rod Modell,
Robert Wyatt,
Hardrive,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Massinfluence,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sällskapet,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Music Machine,
Fela Kuti,
The Knickerbockers,
Spoonie Gee,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
June of 44,
Avey Tare,
Crash Course in Science,
Iggy Pop,
Slave,
Danielle Patucci,
The Buckinghams,
Scrapy,
Bronski Beat,
MC5,
The Martian,
Trumans Water,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Idris Muhammad,
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
John Lydon,
Livin' Joy,
Fear,
The Doobie Brothers,
Amon Düül II,
Bluetip,
Don Cherry,
Rotary Connection,
Cheater Slicks,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.