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 Slovakia 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Harmonia,
The Sonics,
Wally Richardson,
D'Angelo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Heaven 17,
Main Source,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun City Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Arthur Verocai,
Angry Samoans,
The Saints,
John Lydon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gories,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Crash Course in Science,
Mission of Burma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Maleditus Sound,
Altered Images,
Pole,
The Offenders,
Wire,
The Tremeloes,
Derrick Morgan,
Das Ding,
Brothers Johnson,
Little Man,
The Kinks,
Ultravox,
Joe Finger,
DJ Style,
Ronan,
Bootsy Collins,
Mandrill,
Matthew Halsall,
The Moleskins,
Fat Boys,
Skarface,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cymande,
Lindisfarne,
Panda Bear,
Absolute Body Control,
Spandau Ballet,
Harry Pussy,
One Last Wish,
Ludus,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Terry Callier,
Arab on Radar,
Prince Buster,
Judy Mowatt,
Cecil Taylor,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.