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 Czech Republic and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Oneida to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC 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?
The Fugs,
The Angels of Light,
The Techniques,
Yellowson,
Blake Baxter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mad Mike,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Juan Atkins,
The Buckinghams,
Dark Day,
Ludus,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Josef K,
Lalo Schifrin,
Surgeon,
Marc Almond,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Junior Murvin,
Jandek,
Vladislav Delay,
The Monks,
Khruangbin,
Pagans,
Model 500,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Althea and Donna,
Ultravox,
Organ,
Wire,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Stooges,
Peter and Kerry,
Don Cherry,
John Coltrane,
Erykah Badu,
Ice-T,
Vainqueur,
Maurizio,
The Electric Prunes,
The Invisible,
The Fire Engines,
Alton Ellis,
Unrelated Segments,
Joensuu 1685,
the Fania All-Stars,
Chris & Cosey,
The Durutti Column,
Boredoms,
David Bowie,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Intrusion,
Derrick Morgan,
The Tremeloes,
Swans,
Pere Ubu,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Cure,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.