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 Liberia and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
The Black Dice,
Zapp,
the Human League,
The Toasters,
X-101,
Marcia Griffiths,
Oblivians,
Leonard Cohen,
Massinfluence,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Names,
Nas,
The Wake,
Tears for Fears,
Dennis Brown,
Cymande,
The Count Five,
E-Dancer,
Pierre Henry,
Bush Tetras,
Au Pairs,
Circle Jerks,
Danielle Patucci,
Johnny Clarke,
The Litter,
Icehouse,
Pantytec,
Altered Images,
Audionom,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cameo,
Japan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
David Axelrod,
The Knickerbockers,
Jandek,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ohio Players,
Mary Jane Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Television,
The Young Rascals,
Subhumans,
The Misunderstood,
Sight & Sound,
FM Einheit,
PIL,
Sparks,
John Foxx,
Second Layer,
June Days,
Davy DMX,
kango's stein massive,
Tommy Roe,
China Crisis,
Tropical Tobacco,
Loose Ends,
EPMD,
The Mummies,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.