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 Equatorial Guinea and from Beijing.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 New Christs to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Severed Heads,
Minutemen,
The Vogues,
E-Dancer,
Con Funk Shun,
Scratch Acid,
Cameo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alton Ellis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ronnie Foster,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sonny Sharrock,
Loose Ends,
Aloha Tigers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Babytalk,
David Axelrod,
Model 500,
John Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw,
Bobby Sherman,
Silicon Teens,
Sällskapet,
Quantec,
Godley & Creme,
Glenn Branca,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Offenders,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nico,
Donny Hathaway,
The Star Department,
Albert Ayler,
Tears for Fears,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sandy B,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joey Negro,
Dead Boys,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
the Slits,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mr. Review,
Zapp,
Flamin' Groovies,
Negative Approach,
La Düsseldorf,
Darondo,
Sonic Youth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Skaos,
Bootsy Collins,
OOIOO,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.