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 Vanuatu and from Jakarta.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Drexciya to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
The Gories,
48th St. Collective,
Symarip,
Wally Richardson,
Goldenarms,
Severed Heads,
The Durutti Column,
Marshall Jefferson,
Quadrant,
Second Layer,
AZ,
Infiniti,
Laurel Aitken,
David Bowie,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Johnny Clarke,
The Zeros,
Babytalk,
Piero Umiliani,
Darondo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Flamin' Groovies,
Scratch Acid,
The Blues Magoos,
Smog,
New York Dolls,
Jacob Miller,
Pagans,
The Sound,
Sam Rivers,
Heaven 17,
Sarah Menescal,
Section 25,
Dark Day,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Porter Ricks,
MC5,
Wasted Youth,
Wings,
Organ,
Lightning Bolt,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Oblivians,
Eden Ahbez,
Archie Shepp,
Ultravox,
The Invisible,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Sonics,
Spoonie Gee,
MDC,
Colin Newman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jawbox,
Tommy Roe,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.