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 India and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Fortunes to the techno 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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Tommy Roe,
Lower 48,
The Dirtbombs,
Jeff Mills,
David Bowie,
Gabor Szabo,
Alice Coltrane,
Masters at Work,
The Searchers,
Sixth Finger,
Crime,
The Five Americans,
FM Einheit,
Arcadia,
Spandau Ballet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bobby Womack,
The Cure,
Joy Division,
Jeff Lynne,
The Music Machine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Audionom,
World's Most,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joensuu 1685,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mr. Review,
Joe Finger,
The Mojo Men,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amazonics,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Popol Vuh,
The Dave Clark Five,
Morten Harket,
Arab on Radar,
The Count Five,
David McCallum,
Motorama,
The Vogues,
Cameo,
DJ Sneak,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Sonics,
The Techniques,
Jacob Miller,
A Certain Ratio,
The Associates,
Bronski Beat,
Ossler,
Altered Images,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Isaac Hayes,
the Germs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Inner City,
Ultra Naté,
Thompson Twins,
MDC,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.