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 Botswana and from New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
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 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Hoover to the techno 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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Pierre Henry,
Young Marble Giants,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Dolphy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Franke,
The Move,
New York Dolls,
Janne Schatter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skaos,
X-Ray Spex,
Scrapy,
Don Cherry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lakeside,
Mantronix,
Fugazi,
The Raincoats,
Das Ding,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eurythmics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Judy Mowatt,
Danielle Patucci,
OOIOO,
Eric B and Rakim,
Livin' Joy,
Hardrive,
Sonny Sharrock,
Intrusion,
David McCallum,
Wire,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pere Ubu,
Traffic Nightmare,
Frankie Knuckles,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Blossom Toes,
Mark Hollis,
The Skatalites,
Robert Görl,
CMW,
The Victims,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
X-102,
Harry Pussy,
Average White Band,
The Busters,
Isaac Hayes,
Underground Resistance,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Smoke,
Scan 7,
Jeff Lynne,
Sixth Finger,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.