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 Maldives and from Houston.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Cecil Taylor to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jandek,
Yazoo,
48th St. Collective,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Minny Pops,
Blancmange,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Womack,
E-Dancer,
Ohio Players,
The Happenings,
Isaac Hayes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dorothy Ashby,
Derrick May,
The Star Department,
Nik Kershaw,
The Walker Brothers,
CMW,
Alton Ellis,
Charles Mingus,
Black Pus,
The Index,
The Litter,
Kayak,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gang Starr,
Black Flag,
Reuben Wilson,
Hardrive,
Mars,
Flash Fearless,
Inner City,
Talk Talk,
Connie Case,
Interpol,
the Germs,
Kenny Larkin,
Zapp,
Roxy Music,
The Human League,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moss Icon,
D'Angelo,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ultra Naté,
Depeche Mode,
Bob Dylan,
Chris & Cosey,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bad Manners,
Hot Snakes,
The Remains,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fugazi,
The Motions,
Radiopuhelimet,
R.M.O.,
The Gap Band,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.