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 Azerbaijan and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 808 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 The Golliwogs 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Underground Resistance,
Faraquet,
Man Parrish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Piero Umiliani,
Gong,
Model 500,
Deakin,
Bill Wells,
Black Pus,
Colin Newman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roy Ayers,
Fat Boys,
Donald Byrd,
the Swans,
Porter Ricks,
Eric Dolphy,
World's Most,
Lou Christie,
Chrome,
Simply Red,
Visage,
Shoche,
The Walker Brothers,
The Cramps,
Tom Boy,
ABBA,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sister Nancy,
Brand Nubian,
Barbara Tucker,
MC5,
Ohio Players,
Qualms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barrington Levy,
Skaos,
Mars,
X-Ray Spex,
Depeche Mode,
Wally Richardson,
Moss Icon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Leaves,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quadrant,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
T. Rex,
These Immortal Souls,
The Move,
Davy DMX,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oblivians,
CMW,
Delta 5,
The Barracudas,
Youth Brigade,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.