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 Solomon Islands and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Cramps to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
The Fugs,
the Normal,
The Busters,
John Foxx,
Gerry Rafferty,
Oneida,
The Mojo Men,
The Toasters,
Wings,
Eden Ahbez,
Slick Rick,
The Slackers,
Drexciya,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Holt,
Toni Rubio,
Metal Thangz,
Spoonie Gee,
Jacques Brel,
Can,
Minnie Riperton,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bill Wells,
The Real Kids,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Electric Prunes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rites of Spring,
Roger Hodgson,
Nils Olav,
Marmalade,
The Beau Brummels,
Symarip,
Bobby Womack,
Niagra,
The Residents,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dual Sessions,
Banda Bassotti,
Byron Stingily,
Mission of Burma,
Nick Fraelich,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eve St. Jones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lalann,
Schoolly D,
Ralphi Rosario,
Joey Negro,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Amon Düül,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Country Teasers,
The Last Poets,
Kerri Chandler,
The Victims,
Ultra Naté,
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.