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 Slovenia and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco 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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Tubeway Army,
Cybotron,
New York Dolls,
Roxette,
X-102,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Moon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lalann,
Mandrill,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pop Group,
Ornette Coleman,
Alton Ellis,
Darondo,
Quantec,
Stockholm Monsters,
DJ Sneak,
Can,
Hot Snakes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Sonics,
Bobby Byrd,
Faust,
Aswad,
Godley & Creme,
Liliput,
Dennis Brown,
The Blackbyrds,
Pierre Henry,
The Remains,
Eddi Front,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultravox,
Graham Central Station,
Archie Shepp,
Connie Case,
Amon Düül,
Soul II Soul,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Spandau Ballet,
the Normal,
Laurel Aitken,
Shoche,
Marcia Griffiths,
Heaven 17,
Pere Ubu,
Marc Almond,
The Human League,
B.T. Express,
Joy Division,
Q65,
Dave Gahan,
Swell Maps,
Blake Baxter,
T. Rex,
PIL,
Oneida,
Simply Red,
Minor Threat,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.