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 Venezuela and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Black Bananas,
Peter and Kerry,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
T.S.O.L.,
Malaria!,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Moon,
Urselle,
Ornette Coleman,
Aloha Tigers,
Mark Hollis,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Little Man,
Danielle Patucci,
Gastr Del Sol,
Flipper,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lakeside,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ituana,
R.M.O.,
Ice-T,
Letta Mbulu,
Robert Görl,
Pylon,
The Sonics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pantytec,
Sight & Sound,
Groovy Waters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Guru Guru,
Charles Mingus,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mantronix,
The Moleskins,
Suburban Knight,
Barclay James Harvest,
Heaven 17,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mad Mike,
Youth Brigade,
Chris & Cosey,
Gang Green,
Slave,
Judy Mowatt,
Kurtis Blow,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oneida,
Alice Coltrane,
Panda Bear,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Leaves,
Von Mondo,
Johnny Clarke,
Tom Boy,
Sandy B,
MC5,
The Star Department,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.