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 Hungary and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the rock 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
MC5,
F. McDonald,
The Count Five,
Lightning Bolt,
The Last Poets,
The Fall,
The Smiths,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eli Mardock,
The Flesh Eaters,
Faust,
Ultra Naté,
Jeru the Damaja,
Michelle Simonal,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Moon,
Absolute Body Control,
Porter Ricks,
Deepchord,
Rites of Spring,
Gerry Rafferty,
Youth Brigade,
Eve St. Jones,
Echospace,
Lalann,
Depeche Mode,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New Order,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
H. Thieme,
Cecil Taylor,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fugs,
The Victims,
Simply Red,
Mark Hollis,
Wasted Youth,
Suburban Knight,
Laurel Aitken,
Man Parrish,
Young Marble Giants,
PIL,
These Immortal Souls,
Los Fastidios,
Neu!,
Lyres,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bluetip,
Eric Dolphy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fela Kuti,
The Golliwogs,
Cluster,
Peter & Gordon,
Jacques Brel,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Second Layer,
Roxy Music,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.