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 Romania and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 Sister Nancy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Fad Gadget,
Roxette,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Swans,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Black Dice,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
Boz Scaggs,
Bronski Beat,
Lightning Bolt,
Rod Modell,
DNA,
Arab on Radar,
The Moleskins,
Josef K,
Black Sheep,
Todd Terry,
Sonic Youth,
The Gun Club,
Deakin,
The Misunderstood,
Joyce Sims,
Sixth Finger,
The Stooges,
The Walker Brothers,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Grandmaster Flash,
Public Enemy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Little Man,
Angry Samoans,
Smog,
Scratch Acid,
The Cramps,
a-ha,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ituana,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fuzztones,
Brand Nubian,
Yellowson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roxy Music,
Gerry Rafferty,
China Crisis,
The Music Machine,
Das Ding,
Flash Fearless,
Ten City,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Sherman,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Divine Comedy,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Style,
Royal Trux,
JFA,
The Names,
Swell Maps,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.