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 Fiji and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Amon Düül to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Judy Mowatt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Beau Brummels,
Heaven 17,
Aswad,
The Monochrome Set,
Bob Dylan,
The Kinks,
FM Einheit,
Cecil Taylor,
Electric Prunes,
Alton Ellis,
Ludus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Doors,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sound Behaviour,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Arthur Verocai,
Traffic Nightmare,
Don Cherry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Minny Pops,
The Trojans,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neil Young,
Roger Hodgson,
The Offenders,
Stiv Bators,
Goldenarms,
Erasure,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gap Band,
The United States of America,
The Mummies,
The Pretty Things,
Ponytail,
Vladislav Delay,
The Shadows of Knight,
June of 44,
Essential Logic,
Half Japanese,
The Alarm Clocks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Moby Grape,
X-101,
Joe Smooth,
Ice-T,
A Certain Ratio,
Bush Tetras,
Kurtis Blow,
Cybotron,
K-Klass,
The Pop Group,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Popol Vuh,
Skarface,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.