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 Tuvalu and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Marvin Gaye to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mars,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marshall Jefferson,
R.M.O.,
The Happenings,
Pierre Henry,
The Divine Comedy,
Sexual Harrassment,
U.S. Maple,
The Birthday Party,
X-102,
Suburban Knight,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Derrick Morgan,
The Raincoats,
Gichy Dan,
Swell Maps,
Heaven 17,
Camouflage,
Harry Pussy,
Deakin,
Cymande,
Swans,
Yaz,
Dead Boys,
Minor Threat,
The Fortunes,
Neu!,
ABC,
Quando Quango,
James White and The Blacks,
Joyce Sims,
Fela Kuti,
Soft Cell,
Newcleus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crash Course in Science,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Five Americans,
The Mummies,
Accadde A,
Ituana,
Todd Rundgren,
Delon & Dalcan,
Junior Murvin,
Arcadia,
MC5,
Grey Daturas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Drexciya,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lungfish,
EPMD,
The Tremeloes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Schoolly D,
Mission of Burma,
The Move,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.