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 Mauritania and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marine Girls to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
David McCallum,
Sun Ra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Black Pus,
The New Christs,
Audionom,
John Coltrane,
Nick Fraelich,
Khruangbin,
Wasted Youth,
ABBA,
New Order,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Teasers,
Joy Division,
Yaz,
Panda Bear,
Cluster,
Lou Christie,
The Saints,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Junior Murvin,
Josef K,
Spoonie Gee,
Wally Richardson,
Mark Hollis,
Average White Band,
Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Andrew Hill,
Mantronix,
Shoche,
Sugar Minott,
Animal Collective,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Loose Ends,
The Modern Lovers,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Stereo Dub,
Cheater Slicks,
Q and Not U,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Victims,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Arab on Radar,
Glenn Branca,
Marvin Gaye,
The Human League,
Gang Starr,
The Move,
Jacques Brel,
H. Thieme,
Moss Icon,
Robert Görl,
R.M.O.,
Pantytec,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.