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 Iran and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Ultimate Spinach,
Johnny Clarke,
The Monks,
Aural Exciters,
PIL,
Harry Pussy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
June of 44,
Funky Four + One,
Theoretical Girls,
The Angels of Light,
Marine Girls,
Newcleus,
The Martian,
KRS-One,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Buckinghams,
Suburban Knight,
Flamin' Groovies,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ohio Players,
The Fortunes,
The Fugs,
Sixth Finger,
Cameo,
Loose Ends,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mr. Review,
Gabor Szabo,
The Beau Brummels,
The Vogues,
Ten City,
The Happenings,
Maleditus Sound,
Hoover,
Stiv Bators,
Bang On A Can,
Bad Manners,
Fluxion,
Wire,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pussy Galore,
Average White Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quadrant,
Clear Light,
Cymande,
Roger Hodgson,
U.S. Maple,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gladiators,
The Young Rascals,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ponytail,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
This Heat,
Henry Cow,
MDC,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.