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 Palau and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the organ 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 Crispian St. Peters to the crunk 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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Whodini,
New Age Steppers,
the Swans,
Marmalade,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Bar-Kays,
Bauhaus,
The J.B.'s,
Skarface,
Ossler,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Bananas,
Pole,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fugs,
The New Christs,
The Saints,
The Sonics,
Mo-Dettes,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Residents,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Al Stewart,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Albert Ayler,
Marvin Gaye,
Alison Limerick,
The Toasters,
Zero Boys,
kango's stein massive,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Wake,
Delon & Dalcan,
David Bowie,
Royal Trux,
Gong,
Chris Corsano,
Archie Shepp,
Erasure,
Zapp,
Barrington Levy,
Moebius,
Matthew Bourne,
The Martian,
Tim Buckley,
Minor Threat,
Procol Harum,
Brothers Johnson,
Arab on Radar,
The Remains,
New York Dolls,
Jerry's Kids,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.