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 Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 Black Pus to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Christie,
Crime,
Ken Boothe,
Isaac Hayes,
Qualms,
ABBA,
Newcleus,
X-102,
Wire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lou Reed,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Curtis Mayfield,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Velvet Underground,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Harry Pussy,
The American Breed,
Agent Orange,
Lalann,
Avey Tare,
Jawbox,
Neu!,
Sound Behaviour,
Aural Exciters,
Loose Ends,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fortunes,
R.M.O.,
Albert Ayler,
Whodini,
Harmonia,
John Cale,
Max Romeo,
World's Most,
Lightning Bolt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roger Hodgson,
Brothers Johnson,
EPMD,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Move,
Au Pairs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Simply Red,
Make Up,
Goldenarms,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Names,
Donald Byrd,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.