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 Cape Verde and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bluetip to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Das Ding,
Scratch Acid,
DJ Sneak,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amazonics,
ABC,
Marine Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Intrusion,
Harry Pussy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gun Club,
Babytalk,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Technova,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fortunes,
Don Cherry,
Althea and Donna,
Aswad,
The Misunderstood,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Normal,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Saints,
Anakelly,
Terrestrial Tones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Angels of Light,
Average White Band,
Joyce Sims,
Severed Heads,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Selecter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Accadde A,
Excepter,
The Motions,
Wasted Youth,
Lindisfarne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Reed,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Gladiators,
10cc,
The Evens,
OOIOO,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Supertramp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
June of 44,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Sherman,
X-102,
Lakeside,
Porter Ricks,
E-Dancer,
Deakin,
The Cramps,
Archie Shepp,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.