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 Ivory Coast and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
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 Loose Ends to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Bobby Sherman,
Procol Harum,
Althea and Donna,
8 Eyed Spy,
Letta Mbulu,
Laurel Aitken,
Skriet,
The Cure,
Todd Terry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kurtis Blow,
Anthony Braxton,
Severed Heads,
Boredoms,
Nico,
Minutemen,
Black Moon,
Pussy Galore,
Graham Central Station,
Liliput,
The Trojans,
Marc Almond,
Lalann,
Harpers Bizarre,
Amon Düül,
Joy Division,
Rod Modell,
The Grass Roots,
Soft Machine,
Mantronix,
Moss Icon,
Fad Gadget,
The Fortunes,
Blake Baxter,
Dual Sessions,
Piero Umiliani,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Radio Birdman,
Monolake,
Marmalade,
Alice Coltrane,
The Slits,
MC5,
Loose Ends,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Flesh Eaters,
Cameo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Five Americans,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Index,
Girls At Our Best!,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Yazoo,
Bauhaus,
The Monks,
The Fugs,
Mark Hollis,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.