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 Latvia and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Reagan Youth to the punk 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
T.S.O.L.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dawn Penn,
Marcia Griffiths,
Albert Ayler,
Mo-Dettes,
Harry Pussy,
The Fugs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Yellowson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Theoretical Girls,
Oblivians,
Delta 5,
Lou Christie,
Maurizio,
Quando Quango,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Q and Not U,
The Fuzztones,
The Skatalites,
Cecil Taylor,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tom Boy,
T. Rex,
U.S. Maple,
Ice-T,
The Walker Brothers,
Black Pus,
Popol Vuh,
Accadde A,
June of 44,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Shuggie Otis,
Scratch Acid,
Franke,
Banda Bassotti,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
D'Angelo,
The Busters,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
ABC,
The New Christs,
Henry Cow,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nils Olav,
The Young Rascals,
Mandrill,
Slick Rick,
Eddi Front,
Wasted Youth,
Matthew Halsall,
Oneida,
Deadbeat,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.