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 Austria and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 R.M.O. to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blancmange,
Vladislav Delay,
Don Cherry,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Grass Roots,
Al Stewart,
The Star Department,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ronnie Foster,
Mars,
Groovy Waters,
John Holt,
a-ha,
Public Enemy,
Fad Gadget,
Moby Grape,
Unrelated Segments,
Symarip,
Ossler,
The Black Dice,
Crispian St. Peters,
Make Up,
The Vogues,
Henry Cow,
Tears for Fears,
Fugazi,
Monolake,
Laurel Aitken,
Neu!,
Smog,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Red Krayola,
Joe Smooth,
Fear,
Barrington Levy,
Sällskapet,
Lalann,
The Techniques,
Khruangbin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roxette,
Junior Murvin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gang Starr,
Guru Guru,
Prince Buster,
Todd Terry,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
The Cramps,
Mr. Review,
Bobby Sherman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Tremeloes,
In Retrospect,
Electric Prunes,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.