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 Chile and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar 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 These Immortal Souls to the disco 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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
ABBA,
Pere Ubu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Axelrod,
The Mummies,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rosa Yemen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Reuben Wilson,
Fugazi,
Monks,
The Angels of Light,
The Neon Judgement,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rekid,
Ornette Coleman,
Banda Bassotti,
The Seeds,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eddi Front,
The Evens,
June Days,
T.S.O.L.,
Amazonics,
Tears for Fears,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crime,
Siglo XX,
Soul Sonic Force,
Vladislav Delay,
Fluxion,
Marmalade,
Matthew Halsall,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tommy Roe,
Drive Like Jehu,
Throbbing Gristle,
ABC,
Rakim,
The Offenders,
The Vogues,
The Misunderstood,
Kas Product,
Al Stewart,
DJ Sneak,
Nils Olav,
Gabor Szabo,
Altered Images,
The Human League,
Cameo,
China Crisis,
kango's stein massive,
Josef K,
The Five Americans,
LL Cool J,
Tomorrow,
The Doors,
Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron.
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.