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 Bahamas and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Girls At Our Best! to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
H. Thieme,
The Angels of Light,
Skaos,
Sexual Harrassment,
Siglo XX,
Scientists,
the Swans,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moody Blues,
Skarface,
David Axelrod,
Slave,
Index,
Gichy Dan,
Vainqueur,
Matthew Bourne,
Isaac Hayes,
Kerri Chandler,
Groovy Waters,
Wasted Youth,
Surgeon,
Flash Fearless,
Dave Gahan,
The Barracudas,
Oblivians,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Finger,
Yazoo,
The Raincoats,
Danielle Patucci,
The Vogues,
Desert Stars,
The Gladiators,
Maleditus Sound,
Piero Umiliani,
Thee Headcoats,
The Dave Clark Five,
Circle Jerks,
Wolf Eyes,
La Düsseldorf,
The Invisible,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Severed Heads,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Birthday Party,
Johnny Clarke,
ABC,
Alison Limerick,
Fugazi,
Rod Modell,
The Star Department,
Flipper,
Fatback Band,
Don Cherry,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.