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 Dominican Republic and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fatback Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Massinfluence record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
The Beau Brummels,
The Searchers,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Cameo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rod Modell,
Bang On A Can,
Urselle,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crispy Ambulance,
Darondo,
Bill Near,
MC5,
Tommy Roe,
Quando Quango,
The Fortunes,
The Victims,
The Trojans,
The Music Machine,
Scion,
Deepchord,
Saccharine Trust,
David Bowie,
Maleditus Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sister Nancy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nils Olav,
OOIOO,
ABBA,
Organ,
Minny Pops,
The Star Department,
Lindisfarne,
The Mummies,
CMW,
U.S. Maple,
Audionom,
Dennis Brown,
Interpol,
Fat Boys,
Eurythmics,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eric Dolphy,
Jacques Brel,
Zapp,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Swans,
Drexciya,
Theoretical Girls,
Minutemen,
The Electric Prunes,
Surgeon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Real Kids,
Icehouse,
Agent Orange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Al Stewart,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.