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 Luxembourg and from Stockholm.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the güiro 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 Echospace to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
the Human League,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Aural Exciters,
Wolf Eyes,
Radio Birdman,
Fatback Band,
The Offenders,
Fela Kuti,
The Smiths,
Public Enemy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Royal Trux,
The Slits,
Pantaleimon,
Model 500,
Sight & Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Minnie Riperton,
Laurel Aitken,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gun Club,
The Smoke,
the Sonics,
Robert Görl,
Stereo Dub,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Copeland,
The Misunderstood,
Gong,
Bad Manners,
Lalann,
Toni Rubio,
Depeche Mode,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sound,
Y Pants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Easy Going,
the Association,
Delon & Dalcan,
Drexciya,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Bananas,
Surgeon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Black Dice,
Graham Central Station,
Echospace,
Yellowson,
The Zeros,
Skriet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Spandau Ballet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
FM Einheit,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.