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 Eritrea and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar 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 Eric Copeland to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Rekid,
The Monochrome Set,
Popol Vuh,
Sun Ra,
Black Pus,
The Trojans,
Ossler,
Jacques Brel,
Anakelly,
Donald Byrd,
E-Dancer,
ABBA,
Crooked Eye,
the Soft Cell,
The Blues Magoos,
Tropical Tobacco,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Cowsills,
The Fortunes,
Roy Ayers,
The Pop Group,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Womack,
Goldenarms,
The Leaves,
Kurtis Blow,
Lakeside,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Idris Muhammad,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Tears for Fears,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Can,
cv313,
Nirvana,
Funkadelic,
Suburban Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Rufus Thomas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Thompson Twins,
The Dirtbombs,
Don Cherry,
kango's stein massive,
DJ Style,
Lindisfarne,
Joe Smooth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Zapp,
Lalann,
the Slits,
JFA,
Ronnie Foster,
The Knickerbockers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rites of Spring,
Pantytec,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.