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 Belarus and from Beijing.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Skatalites to the techno 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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Pantytec,
Average White Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gong,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Cale,
Connie Case,
The New Christs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sugar Minott,
Black Pus,
Bobby Womack,
Wally Richardson,
The Saints,
Bauhaus,
the Bar-Kays,
Ronan,
Blake Baxter,
Carl Craig,
A Certain Ratio,
Big Daddy Kane,
Scion,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Coltrane,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dave Clark Five,
This Heat,
The Fall,
Black Sheep,
Aloha Tigers,
Banda Bassotti,
Goldenarms,
Oblivians,
The Last Poets,
Kenny Larkin,
Wolf Eyes,
Cybotron,
Wings,
Angry Samoans,
The Golliwogs,
John Lydon,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Offenders,
Yellowson,
Idris Muhammad,
The Residents,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scott Walker,
The Barracudas,
Radiohead,
10cc,
Black Bananas,
Jandek,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brass Construction,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.