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 Malawi and from Edmonton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer 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 Skriet to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David McCallum,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Danielle Patucci,
The Standells,
Agent Orange,
Interpol,
Ultravox,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Q65,
Aswad,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Robert Wyatt,
Gabor Szabo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alphaville,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Laurel Aitken,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Blake Baxter,
Sarah Menescal,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Beau Brummels,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Organ,
R.M.O.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
New Order,
In Retrospect,
Sam Rivers,
Isaac Hayes,
Das Ding,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Faraquet,
Yellowson,
Amon Düül II,
Big Daddy Kane,
Main Source,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scion,
Visage,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Invisible,
Intrusion,
Nas,
The Walker Brothers,
Electric Prunes,
Royal Trux,
Brand Nubian,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Vainqueur,
The Detroit Cobras,
Radio Birdman,
Masters at Work,
Icehouse,
Derrick May,
Jacob Miller,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.