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 Kiribati and from Taipei.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fania All-Stars to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moss Icon,
The Litter,
Alison Limerick,
Al Stewart,
Warren Ellis,
One Last Wish,
Echospace,
Rakim,
Sister Nancy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Sherman,
Dennis Brown,
Black Sheep,
Oneida,
Second Layer,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joey Negro,
Sun City Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
FM Einheit,
Nas,
The Divine Comedy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Drexciya,
Traffic Nightmare,
Neu!,
The Durutti Column,
The Blackbyrds,
The Misunderstood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Slits,
Ultimate Spinach,
Brass Construction,
Thompson Twins,
The Neon Judgement,
Malaria!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Absolute Body Control,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Terry Callier,
Dead Boys,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Aloha Tigers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Evens,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Eve St. Jones,
Skaos,
The Blues Magoos,
Fad Gadget,
Iggy Pop,
Darondo,
The Names,
The Fuzztones,
Robert Görl,
Marine Girls,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.