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 Cameroon 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 T. Rex to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Fad Gadget,
The Birthday Party,
The Sound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Procol Harum,
Dorothy Ashby,
Saccharine Trust,
Shoche,
Kenny Larkin,
Grauzone,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ronan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Aswad,
Newcleus,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Stooges,
The Monks,
Ronnie Foster,
Glenn Branca,
The Dirtbombs,
June Days,
Junior Murvin,
Tres Demented,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sonic Youth,
Metal Thangz,
Rekid,
The Names,
Scan 7,
Don Cherry,
Harry Pussy,
Erasure,
The Moody Blues,
Chris Corsano,
Iggy Pop,
Cluster,
Qualms,
Althea and Donna,
Thee Headcoats,
The Dead C,
Peter and Kerry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gabor Szabo,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Victims,
The Invisible,
Suburban Knight,
Mark Hollis,
Circle Jerks,
Radiohead,
Joyce Sims,
World's Most,
Lightning Bolt,
Deadbeat,
David Bowie,
Cabaret Voltaire,
T. Rex,
The Selecter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aaron Thompson,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.