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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Livin' Joy to the funk 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
R.M.O.,
The Gories,
Eric Copeland,
cv313,
The Fugs,
Moby Grape,
Jerry Gold Smith,
EPMD,
The Fortunes,
Gong,
Severed Heads,
ABBA,
La Düsseldorf,
The Mummies,
the Swans,
The American Breed,
Bauhaus,
The Names,
Bluetip,
The Slackers,
LL Cool J,
Lakeside,
T.S.O.L.,
Intrusion,
Camouflage,
Mission of Burma,
Fluxion,
World's Most,
The Moleskins,
Sandy B,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Skaos,
Amon Düül,
Scott Walker,
ABC,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
B.T. Express,
David Bowie,
Soulsonic Force,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Happenings,
Index,
The Durutti Column,
Audionom,
Grauzone,
Tim Buckley,
Blancmange,
Sarah Menescal,
Mandrill,
Visage,
Juan Atkins,
Rites of Spring,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blackbyrds,
The Busters,
UT,
John Coltrane,
Joy Division,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.