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 Finland and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cramps to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rotary Connection. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Yellowson,
the Swans,
John Cale,
Eric Dolphy,
The Music Machine,
Faust,
Schoolly D,
Connie Case,
The Happenings,
Masters at Work,
Man Parrish,
John Holt,
The Tremeloes,
Wolf Eyes,
Lindisfarne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Last Poets,
Sex Pistols,
Black Sheep,
Fugazi,
Boredoms,
FM Einheit,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Outsiders,
Television,
Cymande,
Howard Jones,
Essential Logic,
The Five Americans,
New Age Steppers,
Ponytail,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David McCallum,
Severed Heads,
Monks,
Ken Boothe,
Radiohead,
Letta Mbulu,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New Order,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
Young Marble Giants,
Moby Grape,
K-Klass,
Maurizio,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
The Stooges,
Clear Light,
Marine Girls,
Ohio Players,
Charles Mingus,
The Neon Judgement,
The Modern Lovers,
DJ Style,
The Kinks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Robert Wyatt,
Marcia Griffiths,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.