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 Micronesia and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 synthesizer 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the funk 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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
T. Rex,
Robert Hood,
Das Ding,
Mr. Review,
Organ,
Maurizio,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lou Reed,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ronan,
Suburban Knight,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gabor Szabo,
the Normal,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Skriet,
The Motions,
The Gun Club,
the Bar-Kays,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gang of Four,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Bananas,
Deakin,
Godley & Creme,
Scrapy,
FM Einheit,
Black Flag,
Yellowson,
Procol Harum,
Skaos,
Nas,
Al Stewart,
Nils Olav,
Bronski Beat,
Radiohead,
Minutemen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Von Mondo,
The Remains,
Jimmy McGriff,
Neu!,
The Index,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Gladiators,
Marvin Gaye,
ABBA,
Ultra Naté,
Rakim,
Jeff Mills,
New York Dolls,
Rekid,
The Angels of Light,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rod Modell,
Ossler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
Avey Tare,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.