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 Tonga and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe 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 Newcleus to the grunge 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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Lightning Bolt,
Charles Mingus,
Kerri Chandler,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marvin Gaye,
B.T. Express,
Mandrill,
Surgeon,
Lou Christie,
CMW,
Nik Kershaw,
Audionom,
F. McDonald,
The Index,
Matthew Bourne,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Peter and Kerry,
Darondo,
Matthew Halsall,
The Electric Prunes,
China Crisis,
Fugazi,
Jerry's Kids,
The Birthday Party,
Bootsy Collins,
Black Pus,
June Days,
The United States of America,
Morten Harket,
Gang Starr,
KRS-One,
Rapeman,
Kayak,
The J.B.'s,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bobby Sherman,
A Certain Ratio,
Procol Harum,
Masters at Work,
Minor Threat,
Infiniti,
Massinfluence,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pussy Galore,
T.S.O.L.,
The Angels of Light,
Sarah Menescal,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Henry Cow,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Kinks,
Sun City Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Funkadelic,
Siglo XX,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Womack,
Terry Callier,
Bill Near,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tommy Roe,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.