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 Cuba and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 harpsichord 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 Eve St. Jones to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
The Evens,
Gabor Szabo,
Agent Orange,
the Germs,
Joy Division,
Unrelated Segments,
Sun Ra,
Can,
Bronski Beat,
Bootsy Collins,
Essential Logic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Unwound,
AZ,
Archie Shepp,
New Age Steppers,
Mandrill,
In Retrospect,
Young Marble Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
The Divine Comedy,
Flipper,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Chris Corsano,
Alice Coltrane,
Ohio Players,
Cameo,
The Monks,
Television Personalities,
Banda Bassotti,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Human League,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Suicide,
The Offenders,
Juan Atkins,
China Crisis,
Underground Resistance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Clear Light,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Buckinghams,
Eric B and Rakim,
Half Japanese,
Grandmaster Flash,
Supertramp,
Dorothy Ashby,
Althea and Donna,
The Doobie Brothers,
Basic Channel,
The Walker Brothers,
Nico,
Mantronix,
Shoche,
Surgeon,
Ituana,
Dave Gahan,
KRS-One,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.