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 Swaziland and from London.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Man Parrish to the grime 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
The Tremeloes,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers,
Heaven 17,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Moby Grape,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kayak,
Parry Music,
Youth Brigade,
The Detroit Cobras,
Crash Course in Science,
Reuben Wilson,
Skarface,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
Ohio Players,
Bang On A Can,
Mission of Burma,
Wasted Youth,
Maleditus Sound,
Colin Newman,
The Gun Club,
Harmonia,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Sonics,
The Evens,
The Red Krayola,
Deadbeat,
Bluetip,
Kerri Chandler,
Soft Cell,
Jeff Lynne,
Wire,
Motorama,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobby Byrd,
the Fania All-Stars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Glambeats Corp.,
Magma,
Grauzone,
Kas Product,
Quadrant,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scion,
Newcleus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Swans,
The Blackbyrds,
La Düsseldorf,
Von Mondo,
The Techniques,
Ituana,
Mandrill,
Mars,
Smog,
Sun Ra,
Bob Dylan,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.