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 Saudi Arabia and from Woodstock.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Monks to the grime 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sunsets and Hearts record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Icehouse,
Lakeside,
Blake Baxter,
Youth Brigade,
Don Cherry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Can,
Smog,
Albert Ayler,
Ohio Players,
Shuggie Otis,
Gang of Four,
The Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bad Manners,
Severed Heads,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
LL Cool J,
Lightning Bolt,
In Retrospect,
DNA,
Lindisfarne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Donny Hathaway,
the Normal,
The Slackers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
New Order,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gichy Dan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pussy Galore,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cure,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Fania All-Stars,
Clear Light,
Bill Wells,
Banda Bassotti,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Toni Rubio,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Starr,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pere Ubu,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tommy Roe,
Soul II Soul,
Ornette Coleman,
Thompson Twins,
Leonard Cohen,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fugazi,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.