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 Pakistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gabor Szabo to the funk 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Dead Boys,
The Stooges,
Suburban Knight,
KRS-One,
Gil Scott Heron,
Monks,
Freddie Wadling,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Brothers Johnson,
Jacques Brel,
Roger Hodgson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Real Kids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Chris Corsano,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Archie Shepp,
The Zeros,
Nirvana,
Bobby Byrd,
Shuggie Otis,
Bob Dylan,
The Detroit Cobras,
X-102,
The Happenings,
Vladislav Delay,
One Last Wish,
Reagan Youth,
The Techniques,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Popol Vuh,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Birthday Party,
Kas Product,
The Victims,
Masters at Work,
Tomorrow,
MDC,
a-ha,
The Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Idris Muhammad,
Country Teasers,
Scott Walker,
China Crisis,
Thee Headcoats,
Steve Hackett,
Whodini,
Cheater Slicks,
Fela Kuti,
Minor Threat,
Stetsasonic,
Bluetip,
Cluster,
48th St. Collective,
Brass Construction,
X-101,
Unwound,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.