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 Lille.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
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 Nile Rodgers 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 Youth Brigade to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mark Hollis,
Harry Pussy,
The Buckinghams,
Camouflage,
Bang On A Can,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang Green,
The Blues Magoos,
Lower 48,
Soul Sonic Force,
David Axelrod,
Avey Tare,
Marine Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Roy Ayers,
The Victims,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Japan,
B.T. Express,
The Fortunes,
Procol Harum,
Wally Richardson,
Severed Heads,
The Durutti Column,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Robert Görl,
Arab on Radar,
Cameo,
Loose Ends,
Camberwell Now,
Cluster,
Fela Kuti,
Chris Corsano,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sun City Girls,
The Barracudas,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tim Buckley,
Slave,
The Associates,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ken Boothe,
Tomorrow,
Scratch Acid,
AZ,
Gabor Szabo,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minor Threat,
Pantytec,
Smog,
Youth Brigade,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Liliput,
Chrome,
Ultravox,
The Music Machine,
K-Klass,
Section 25,
Skarface,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.