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 Ecuador and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin 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 Lightning Bolt to the punk 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skarface record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jacques Brel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The American Breed,
Janne Schatter,
Black Pus,
Deepchord,
Warsaw,
The Birthday Party,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Prince Buster,
Grey Daturas,
Chris & Cosey,
T.S.O.L.,
Cymande,
Bobby Womack,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sound,
H. Thieme,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joe Finger,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Vladislav Delay,
Donald Byrd,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-102,
Albert Ayler,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jerry's Kids,
10cc,
Skriet,
U.S. Maple,
PIL,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Five Americans,
Marmalade,
Khruangbin,
Josef K,
Andrew Hill,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bill Wells,
The Slits,
Intrusion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marine Girls,
The Black Dice,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
K-Klass,
Circle Jerks,
Ultravox,
Grauzone,
Faust,
The Barracudas,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lou Reed,
Wasted Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.