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 Cyprus and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 chamberlin 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
The Smoke,
Pagans,
Gang of Four,
The Monochrome Set,
Q and Not U,
Black Pus,
Rites of Spring,
Brick,
Pole,
The Sonics,
Nico,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scrapy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Graham Central Station,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stetsasonic,
Young Marble Giants,
D'Angelo,
The American Breed,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pet Shop Boys,
Newcleus,
the Soft Cell,
Charles Mingus,
Angry Samoans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sun City Girls,
Mission of Burma,
Anakelly,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cybotron,
This Heat,
Arcadia,
The Residents,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sonic Youth,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eve St. Jones,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pylon,
The New Christs,
The Evens,
Robert Hood,
Hot Snakes,
T.S.O.L.,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Cale,
Japan,
Skarface,
Jeff Lynne,
Don Cherry,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.