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 Russia and from Lagos.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Marine Girls to the rock 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Slick Rick,
The Trojans,
Aloha Tigers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drexciya,
Lalo Schifrin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Japan,
Rekid,
Rosa Yemen,
Cybotron,
The Cramps,
The Alarm Clocks,
New York Dolls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
B.T. Express,
Matthew Bourne,
Dual Sessions,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blake Baxter,
Fatback Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Sound,
Audionom,
Peter and Kerry,
E-Dancer,
Qualms,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Unwound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharoah Sanders,
Country Joe & The Fish,
K-Klass,
Lucky Dragons,
Rapeman,
Sonic Youth,
Johnny Clarke,
Fela Kuti,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Avey Tare,
Essential Logic,
Outsiders,
Terry Callier,
Magazine,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Arcadia,
Sugar Minott,
The Cowsills,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Henry Cow,
Lightning Bolt,
Livin' Joy,
Ultravox,
Ossler,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed,
Desert Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ronan,
Nils Olav,
Aswad,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.