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 Latvia and from Mexico City.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Bill Wells to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eric Copeland,
Arthur Verocai,
New Age Steppers,
Soft Cell,
Dark Day,
Donald Byrd,
Mission of Burma,
Aaron Thompson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Animal Collective,
Country Teasers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dead C,
48th St. Collective,
Tom Boy,
Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
The J.B.'s,
Skriet,
Moby Grape,
Cluster,
Stiv Bators,
Reuben Wilson,
Fear,
Sarah Menescal,
Shuggie Otis,
Sällskapet,
Roxy Music,
Leonard Cohen,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Mojo Men,
the Slits,
Heaven 17,
Rekid,
The Selecter,
Mars,
Zapp,
The Divine Comedy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gichy Dan,
Matthew Bourne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tubeway Army,
Roy Ayers,
The Grass Roots,
Thompson Twins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kaleidoscope,
Minutemen,
Prince Buster,
Motorama,
Audionom,
Mark Hollis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Davy DMX,
The Durutti Column,
Stetsasonic,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Seeds,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.