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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lightning Bolt to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Harmonia,
The Techniques,
The Gun Club,
The Gories,
Pussy Galore,
Monolake,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Don Cherry,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Moon,
Black Sheep,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Television Personalities,
The Fortunes,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Porter Ricks,
The Human League,
Dual Sessions,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lakeside,
The Standells,
Wasted Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Parrish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roxy Music,
Kool Moe Dee,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Youth Brigade,
Lee Hazlewood,
Oneida,
Visage,
Joensuu 1685,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Massinfluence,
Electric Prunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
The Monochrome Set,
Eve St. Jones,
The Index,
Scott Walker,
Ken Boothe,
The Fuzztones,
Dawn Penn,
Yusef Lateef,
Reagan Youth,
Quando Quango,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sight & Sound,
D'Angelo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Morten Harket,
Fela Kuti,
Sällskapet,
Alphaville,
Moby Grape,
Mary Jane Girls,
Radiohead,
B.T. Express,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.