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 Nicaragua and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the dance 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Average White Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Letta Mbulu,
Reagan Youth,
LL Cool J,
Wasted Youth,
The Zeros,
Pere Ubu,
The Angels of Light,
The Invisible,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eddi Front,
The Victims,
The American Breed,
Bauhaus,
a-ha,
Ten City,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Monochrome Set,
Marmalade,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gichy Dan,
Carl Craig,
Little Man,
The Gories,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sarah Menescal,
Sonic Youth,
Neil Young,
Slick Rick,
The Wake,
Fatback Band,
X-101,
The Velvet Underground,
Bill Near,
Fort Wilson Riot,
D'Angelo,
Pole,
Althea and Donna,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Walker Brothers,
Alice Coltrane,
Albert Ayler,
Erasure,
Black Flag,
Quantec,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Leonard Cohen,
Funky Four + One,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Womack,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
kango's stein massive,
The United States of America,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.