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 Belarus and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the guitar 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 Boz Scaggs 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Ohio Players,
The Count Five,
Los Fastidios,
Ultravox,
Smog,
The Dead C,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Christie,
Model 500,
Sarah Menescal,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scion,
Stockholm Monsters,
Johnny Clarke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hot Snakes,
Rekid,
Minor Threat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Scott Walker,
Prince Buster,
Siglo XX,
Jeff Mills,
Radio Birdman,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bang On A Can,
The Pretty Things,
Josef K,
Faust,
Jerry's Kids,
Main Source,
L. Decosne,
Black Pus,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Offenders,
Dual Sessions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tubeway Army,
Scratch Acid,
The Black Dice,
John Holt,
New Order,
Pulsallama,
The Fall,
Adolescents,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pole,
Technova,
The Residents,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Evens,
Crash Course in Science,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mandrill,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Au Pairs,
Sam Rivers,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Laurel Aitken,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.