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 Slovenia and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 güiro 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 Andrew Hill to the disco 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Heaven 17,
DNA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter & Gordon,
Terry Callier,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Arcadia,
Procol Harum,
Pole,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Piero Umiliani,
Marshall Jefferson,
Icehouse,
the Sonics,
X-102,
Bill Near,
B.T. Express,
Pere Ubu,
The Smiths,
Magazine,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sound,
Davy DMX,
Soft Machine,
The Star Department,
Newcleus,
H. Thieme,
Lightning Bolt,
Todd Rundgren,
Mantronix,
Darondo,
The Golliwogs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aswad,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fluxion,
The Barracudas,
Lou Christie,
Donny Hathaway,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
This Heat,
The Martian,
Gerry Rafferty,
Graham Central Station,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rakim,
Glambeats Corp.,
Isaac Hayes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Metal Thangz,
John Foxx,
Bobby Sherman,
Clear Light,
Man Parrish,
Idris Muhammad,
Mars,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nils Olav,
The Electric Prunes,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.