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 Iceland and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the techno 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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Camberwell Now,
James White and The Blacks,
a-ha,
Prince Buster,
Fugazi,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fluxion,
48th St. Collective,
Marvin Gaye,
Mission of Burma,
U.S. Maple,
Absolute Body Control,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Schoolly D,
Terry Callier,
Crash Course in Science,
Intrusion,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pulsallama,
The Black Dice,
Fad Gadget,
The Smoke,
Peter & Gordon,
Ronnie Foster,
Angry Samoans,
Sam Rivers,
Barbara Tucker,
Warren Ellis,
The Beau Brummels,
Sun Ra,
Byron Stingily,
Erykah Badu,
Mandrill,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Invisible,
Wire,
Symarip,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Outsiders,
Zero Boys,
Roy Ayers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Agent Orange,
Black Bananas,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gregory Isaacs,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
The Human League,
Soulsonic Force,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Martian,
Freddie Wadling,
The Misunderstood,
The Cramps,
Anakelly,
The Birthday Party,
Lee Hazlewood,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.