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 Ethiopia and from Stockholm.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 KRS-One to the electroclash 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Eurythmics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Pole,
Minor Threat,
Morten Harket,
Country Teasers,
Unrelated Segments,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aural Exciters,
Average White Band,
Surgeon,
Blake Baxter,
Zapp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joe Finger,
DNA,
Severed Heads,
ABBA,
Rites of Spring,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Make Up,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Moon,
Brick,
Unwound,
Charles Mingus,
Ice-T,
Andrew Hill,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fat Boys,
Accadde A,
Rekid,
The Grass Roots,
Pierre Henry,
New York Dolls,
F. McDonald,
Bad Manners,
Gregory Isaacs,
Skarface,
Warren Ellis,
Schoolly D,
The Smoke,
Marmalade,
Groovy Waters,
Jimmy McGriff,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hasil Adkins,
Blancmange,
Ponytail,
the Germs,
Lungfish,
Radio Birdman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Derrick Morgan,
Maleditus Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dead C,
Ornette Coleman,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.