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 East Timor and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Crispy Ambulance to the funk 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Josef K,
Lindisfarne,
Bill Wells,
Judy Mowatt,
The Zeros,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bobby Womack,
Parry Music,
Byron Stingily,
Ice-T,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Piero Umiliani,
Minnie Riperton,
Yusef Lateef,
Roxy Music,
The Count Five,
Cymande,
The Dead C,
David Axelrod,
The Remains,
cv313,
Sandy B,
Dark Day,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bill Near,
Severed Heads,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Whodini,
Bobby Byrd,
Theoretical Girls,
X-Ray Spex,
The Red Krayola,
Charles Mingus,
Quando Quango,
The Skatalites,
The Techniques,
The Pretty Things,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Sonics,
Colin Newman,
Neil Young,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun City Girls,
Fluxion,
Lee Hazlewood,
Slave,
The Monks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Boz Scaggs,
Wolf Eyes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Walker Brothers,
Reuben Wilson,
Skaos,
Hot Snakes,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.