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 Morocco and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Invisible to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Toni Rubio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Funkadelic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Surgeon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
LL Cool J,
Rekid,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Foxx,
Jacob Miller,
DJ Style,
Eve St. Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
Don Cherry,
Japan,
Interpol,
Fear,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cheater Slicks,
Charles Mingus,
Malaria!,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
Grauzone,
Black Flag,
Sandy B,
Roxette,
Electric Light Orchestra,
This Heat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Flash Fearless,
Drexciya,
The Buckinghams,
Althea and Donna,
Heaven 17,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cal Tjader,
Gabor Szabo,
Sarah Menescal,
Niagra,
Gong,
Soft Machine,
Bauhaus,
Tropical Tobacco,
Half Japanese,
ABC,
Angry Samoans,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sugar Minott,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Litter,
Organ,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Juan Atkins,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Spandau Ballet,
Masters at Work,
Pole,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.