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 Laos and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mission of Burma 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun City Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
the Association,
The Leaves,
Whodini,
Swans,
Rakim,
The Angels of Light,
Buzzcocks,
Mo-Dettes,
B.T. Express,
The Motions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Monochrome Set,
Connie Case,
Bob Dylan,
Porter Ricks,
Dual Sessions,
Goldenarms,
Pylon,
Donny Hathaway,
Amon Düül II,
Thompson Twins,
Alison Limerick,
The Move,
Faust,
Janne Schatter,
Gabor Szabo,
The Five Americans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Toni Rubio,
Dorothy Ashby,
R.M.O.,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Maurizio,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang of Four,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gap Band,
Negative Approach,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Radio Birdman,
Brick,
Dawn Penn,
Black Sheep,
Pulsallama,
Moby Grape,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Bar-Kays,
Echospace,
Fugazi,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tres Demented,
The Modern Lovers,
Fat Boys,
F. McDonald,
Newcleus,
Surgeon,
Popol Vuh,
Brothers Johnson,
Curtis Mayfield,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.