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 Tanzania and from Beijing.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Grey Daturas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
Dark Day,
Darondo,
Theoretical Girls,
Liliput,
Sandy B,
Absolute Body Control,
The Beau Brummels,
X-101,
Nick Fraelich,
Section 25,
Radio Birdman,
Rapeman,
The Monochrome Set,
Freddie Wadling,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gang of Four,
Duran Duran,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sex Pistols,
A Certain Ratio,
Alice Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
Masters at Work,
Fear,
Icehouse,
T.S.O.L.,
ABBA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tom Boy,
Soft Machine,
Kevin Saunderson,
Davy DMX,
Supertramp,
Black Moon,
Danielle Patucci,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Dave Gahan,
John Coltrane,
Heaven 17,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mandrill,
Ten City,
Intrusion,
Fela Kuti,
Dennis Brown,
The Skatalites,
Agitation Free,
Kas Product,
Drexciya,
Goldenarms,
The Kinks,
the Association,
Joyce Sims,
Barclay James Harvest,
Chris Corsano,
Monks,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.