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 Bulgaria and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Hoover to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Glambeats Corp.,
Smog,
Mr. Review,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alton Ellis,
The Red Krayola,
The Evens,
Ituana,
The Mojo Men,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Slits,
the Soft Cell,
The Blackbyrds,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cecil Taylor,
Tomorrow,
Zapp,
The Music Machine,
Juan Atkins,
Deakin,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ludus,
The Cowsills,
Black Flag,
Excepter,
The Barracudas,
the Sonics,
E-Dancer,
Model 500,
FM Einheit,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
8 Eyed Spy,
Thompson Twins,
The Human League,
Scrapy,
Echospace,
Janne Schatter,
Liliput,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
Eddi Front,
The Trojans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marcia Griffiths,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sugar Minott,
ABC,
Joe Smooth,
Bill Wells,
The Standells,
The Mummies,
Radio Birdman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Au Pairs,
Delta 5,
The Last Poets,
The Beau Brummels,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Electric Prunes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.