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 Zimbabwe and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bronski Beat to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The American Breed,
Nik Kershaw,
T. Rex,
Scrapy,
China Crisis,
Agent Orange,
John Holt,
The Blues Magoos,
Kayak,
Kas Product,
Zapp,
Intrusion,
Connie Case,
Joey Negro,
The Wake,
Davy DMX,
The Invisible,
Johnny Clarke,
Qualms,
Heaven 17,
Gang Starr,
Jeff Mills,
Barbara Tucker,
Lalann,
Pylon,
This Heat,
Magazine,
Theoretical Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Absolute Body Control,
David Bowie,
Organ,
Swell Maps,
Loose Ends,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Green,
Severed Heads,
The Fuzztones,
F. McDonald,
PIL,
DNA,
Brass Construction,
Guru Guru,
Kerri Chandler,
Stetsasonic,
Mad Mike,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Mojo Men,
Man Parrish,
Black Bananas,
The Names,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Grass Roots,
Ultravox,
The Neon Judgement,
Buzzcocks,
Arab on Radar,
Spoonie Gee,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.