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 Iran 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the disco 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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Blancmange,
Jacques Brel,
Bobby Sherman,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun City Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
Thompson Twins,
Fear,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultra Naté,
Scion,
Royal Trux,
Black Sheep,
Lyres,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Byron Stingily,
Loose Ends,
Andrew Hill,
The Vogues,
Harmonia,
Amazonics,
Agent Orange,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Camberwell Now,
Roxette,
Henry Cow,
The Modern Lovers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Magazine,
Outsiders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dark Day,
Bauhaus,
Pylon,
The Gun Club,
DJ Sneak,
Ronnie Foster,
Soft Cell,
Smog,
Rapeman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Reuben Wilson,
Matthew Bourne,
Television,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dave Gahan,
Lungfish,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Hot Snakes,
The Black Dice,
Gang Starr,
Todd Terry,
Rakim,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
UT,
Rites of Spring,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.