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 Dominica and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare 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 Wasted Youth to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zero Boys,
Rites of Spring,
10cc,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Royal Trux,
Smog,
Ice-T,
Essential Logic,
Sixth Finger,
KRS-One,
Scion,
Juan Atkins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deepchord,
Average White Band,
Kayak,
Steve Hackett,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Pus,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Smiths,
Lucky Dragons,
Aswad,
Joe Finger,
Morten Harket,
Skarface,
Bang On A Can,
Albert Ayler,
Reuben Wilson,
The Birthday Party,
The Sisters of Mercy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
Quadrant,
Minor Threat,
Shoche,
UT,
The United States of America,
The Fuzztones,
Easy Going,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nirvana,
Wally Richardson,
The Five Americans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jacques Brel,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Red Krayola,
Rotary Connection,
Sandy B,
The Names,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
T. Rex,
Con Funk Shun,
Scratch Acid,
Traffic Nightmare,
La Düsseldorf,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.