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 East Timor and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the dance 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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kas Product,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dawn Penn,
Eric B and Rakim,
Guru Guru,
Arab on Radar,
Yaz,
Pere Ubu,
The Cramps,
Duran Duran,
Rapeman,
The Index,
Fatback Band,
Faust,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gang Starr,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker,
Mad Mike,
Crispian St. Peters,
Symarip,
The Electric Prunes,
Youth Brigade,
The Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Niagra,
Ronan,
Rhythm & Sound,
Maurizio,
The Doors,
Sexual Harrassment,
Josef K,
Sällskapet,
The Monochrome Set,
Charles Mingus,
MDC,
The Black Dice,
The J.B.'s,
Franke,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Dead C,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fortunes,
Soft Machine,
Rotary Connection,
Colin Newman,
Circle Jerks,
Con Funk Shun,
Q65,
Marmalade,
Bootsy Collins,
Albert Ayler,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stereo Dub,
the Germs,
This Heat,
Marc Almond,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.