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 Montenegro and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Spandau Ballet to the grime 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
T.S.O.L.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Motorama,
Reagan Youth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Amon Düül II,
The Victims,
Alice Coltrane,
Johnny Clarke,
Ornette Coleman,
Funkadelic,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marc Almond,
Depeche Mode,
Tres Demented,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Albert Ayler,
Mandrill,
The Skatalites,
The Moody Blues,
DJ Sneak,
Popol Vuh,
Blossom Toes,
Bobby Sherman,
Mission of Burma,
Delon & Dalcan,
Flipper,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rufus Thomas,
Pussy Galore,
Quantec,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Magazine,
Altered Images,
The Fugs,
Sun Ra,
PIL,
Qualms,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bluetip,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Black Dice,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Leaves,
Jacques Brel,
Warsaw,
Severed Heads,
X-102,
48th St. Collective,
Blake Baxter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Banda Bassotti,
The Star Department,
Michelle Simonal,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wire,
Donny Hathaway,
Ronnie Foster,
Howard Jones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.