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 Mali and from Portland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alice Coltrane to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
H. Thieme,
Minor Threat,
Easy Going,
Stockholm Monsters,
Robert Görl,
Magma,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tim Buckley,
Iggy Pop,
Public Enemy,
Second Layer,
Marmalade,
Intrusion,
Mission of Burma,
Althea and Donna,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultravox,
La Düsseldorf,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bad Manners,
New York Dolls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Das Ding,
June Days,
The Fugs,
Amazonics,
The Raincoats,
OOIOO,
John Foxx,
Black Sheep,
Absolute Body Control,
Babytalk,
PIL,
Boz Scaggs,
The Smiths,
Urselle,
Harmonia,
Black Pus,
Unwound,
Alphaville,
Joyce Sims,
Accadde A,
The Skatalites,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Bluetip,
Lou Reed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Can,
Electric Prunes,
Pierre Henry,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Techniques,
Spandau Ballet,
Sun Ra,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.