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 Slovenia and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Jacob Miller,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
Hashim,
Patti Smith,
Man Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Joy Division,
The Alarm Clocks,
The J.B.'s,
Reuben Wilson,
Wally Richardson,
Johnny Clarke,
James White and The Blacks,
Tears for Fears,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bad Manners,
Terry Callier,
Liliput,
Delta 5,
Lower 48,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
LL Cool J,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
Silicon Teens,
The Moleskins,
Ohio Players,
Essential Logic,
Connie Case,
Thee Headcoats,
Altered Images,
T.S.O.L.,
Electric Prunes,
Loose Ends,
Funky Four + One,
Skaos,
Moby Grape,
Donny Hathaway,
Stiv Bators,
Technova,
One Last Wish,
Mark Hollis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Trumans Water,
Main Source,
a-ha,
Soul II Soul,
Rod Modell,
Sällskapet,
Jacques Brel,
Cheater Slicks,
The Happenings,
U.S. Maple,
Graham Central Station,
the Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.