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 Canada and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Buckinghams to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Vladislav Delay,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Maurizio,
Swell Maps,
Robert Hood,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
the Germs,
Underground Resistance,
Surgeon,
Half Japanese,
Angry Samoans,
Derrick May,
The Vogues,
Harry Pussy,
Unwound,
U.S. Maple,
London Community Gospel Choir,
ABC,
Malaria!,
the Sonics,
Amon Düül,
Aswad,
The Skatalites,
Black Pus,
Spoonie Gee,
Camouflage,
The Divine Comedy,
Shuggie Otis,
The Slackers,
Public Enemy,
Nico,
Marvin Gaye,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scan 7,
Warsaw,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gap Band,
Youth Brigade,
Danielle Patucci,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Accadde A,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Evens,
Derrick Morgan,
The J.B.'s,
Flamin' Groovies,
Carl Craig,
Bizarre Inc.,
Andrew Hill,
The New Christs,
Faraquet,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Kinks,
Bronski Beat,
Jeff Lynne,
Glenn Branca,
Jawbox,
John Cale,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.