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 Rwanda and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Angels of Light to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Steve Hackett,
Bootsy Collins,
Mandrill,
The Victims,
The Real Kids,
Monks,
Bobby Sherman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nirvana,
The Pretty Things,
Babytalk,
Soft Machine,
The Golliwogs,
Stetsasonic,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultravox,
Grey Daturas,
Derrick May,
Nico,
UT,
Lalann,
The Beau Brummels,
Absolute Body Control,
Kas Product,
Terry Callier,
Bobby Womack,
Crooked Eye,
These Immortal Souls,
The Sound,
the Association,
Blancmange,
The Mojo Men,
Marvin Gaye,
Masters at Work,
Minutemen,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gabor Szabo,
Charles Mingus,
Lou Reed,
Arthur Verocai,
Pet Shop Boys,
Guru Guru,
John Coltrane,
Vainqueur,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
Ituana,
The Slackers,
Section 25,
the Bar-Kays,
Kayak,
MDC,
Fatback Band,
The Buckinghams,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Residents,
Andrew Hill,
Pussy Galore,
Animal Collective,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.