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 Iceland and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet 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 ABBA to the dance 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
The Seeds,
Eli Mardock,
Unwound,
Pulsallama,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Human League,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Shoche,
Minnie Riperton,
the Swans,
Arthur Verocai,
Symarip,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Evens,
The Blackbyrds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
DJ Sneak,
Eden Ahbez,
Silicon Teens,
Aswad,
Agent Orange,
Excepter,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sällskapet,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deepchord,
Duran Duran,
The Moody Blues,
Technova,
Japan,
The Modern Lovers,
Oblivians,
Amon Düül,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
U.S. Maple,
T. Rex,
The Skatalites,
Peter and Kerry,
John Holt,
Monks,
K-Klass,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joe Finger,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fear,
Colin Newman,
Maleditus Sound,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Faust,
Dave Gahan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Blancmange,
Spandau Ballet,
The Pop Group,
Arcadia,
Deadbeat,
Alton Ellis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.