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 Qatar and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eve St. Jones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rotary Connection. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
Jandek,
Pierre Henry,
ABC,
Arcadia,
Amon Düül,
The American Breed,
T.S.O.L.,
Cecil Taylor,
Dark Day,
Roxy Music,
Jesper Dahlback,
Thompson Twins,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Cowsills,
The Kinks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Anthony Braxton,
48th St. Collective,
Shoche,
Monks,
Main Source,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lakeside,
Deakin,
Swans,
The Blackbyrds,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Henry Cow,
The Sound,
Procol Harum,
Connie Case,
Ronan,
The Busters,
Agitation Free,
The Techniques,
Reuben Wilson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rod Modell,
Supertramp,
Pole,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cameo,
Eli Mardock,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Beau Brummels,
Bootsy Collins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joe Smooth,
The Music Machine,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Animal Collective,
Fugazi,
Minutemen,
Bizarre Inc.,
B.T. Express,
Maurizio,
Funky Four + One,
Country Teasers,
Bronski Beat,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.