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 Yemen 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the organ 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 Andrew Hill to the electroclash 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Symarip,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Stooges,
T. Rex,
Pantytec,
Skriet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ronnie Foster,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crooked Eye,
The Kinks,
Duran Duran,
FM Einheit,
Blake Baxter,
Suburban Knight,
Scan 7,
Darondo,
Robert Hood,
Ohio Players,
The Zeros,
Fela Kuti,
John Lydon,
Mars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fear,
Mandrill,
The Saints,
Sexual Harrassment,
Flamin' Groovies,
Albert Ayler,
Negative Approach,
Todd Rundgren,
Jacques Brel,
The Real Kids,
The Last Poets,
The Blues Magoos,
Reuben Wilson,
Rotary Connection,
The Misunderstood,
Quando Quango,
Funkadelic,
The Black Dice,
Massinfluence,
Cheater Slicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Arcadia,
Second Layer,
Pierre Henry,
Harmonia,
The Mummies,
Fugazi,
The Litter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jeff Mills,
Minny Pops,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Qualms,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fall,
The Invisible,
Angry Samoans,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Beau Brummels,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.