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 Iceland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 rhodes 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 The Five Americans 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
Groovy Waters,
Eurythmics,
Ten City,
The Gladiators,
The Standells,
Nik Kershaw,
Mission of Burma,
Rod Modell,
Gong,
Freddie Wadling,
Malaria!,
Boz Scaggs,
Mandrill,
Charles Mingus,
The Move,
Public Enemy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Whodini,
B.T. Express,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Grass Roots,
Con Funk Shun,
Bluetip,
Ornette Coleman,
Popol Vuh,
The Tremeloes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Porter Ricks,
Amazonics,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Near,
Q65,
Excepter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Derrick May,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nils Olav,
Television,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Flag,
Vladislav Delay,
Dawn Penn,
World's Most,
Icehouse,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
Kerri Chandler,
The Music Machine,
Cameo,
Eli Mardock,
Juan Atkins,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warsaw,
ABC,
Roxette,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Guru Guru,
Crime,
The Seeds,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.