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 Argentina and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sex Pistols to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Funky Four + One,
China Crisis,
Buzzcocks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Angels of Light,
Andrew Hill,
Quadrant,
T. Rex,
The Searchers,
Tears for Fears,
Wolf Eyes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Hoover,
Das Ding,
Black Flag,
Liliput,
The Walker Brothers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Donald Byrd,
Japan,
Donny Hathaway,
Cluster,
Monolake,
Sparks,
Khruangbin,
Negative Approach,
Y Pants,
Matthew Halsall,
World's Most,
Boz Scaggs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scion,
Althea and Donna,
Aaron Thompson,
Mantronix,
Accadde A,
the Slits,
Stiv Bators,
Can,
Darondo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minutemen,
Eli Mardock,
Yaz,
The Star Department,
The Music Machine,
Bill Wells,
Harpers Bizarre,
Main Source,
Sugar Minott,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brick,
the Swans,
Average White Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gong,
Model 500,
Erasure,
Panda Bear,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.