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 Ivory Coast and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the sitar 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 Fela Kuti to the crunk 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Black Bananas,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Litter,
The Count Five,
The Monks,
Crash Course in Science,
Neu!,
Pulsallama,
A Certain Ratio,
Scion,
Joy Division,
Rekid,
Gong,
Maleditus Sound,
Lungfish,
a-ha,
The Fugs,
Groovy Waters,
T.S.O.L.,
Fad Gadget,
Moss Icon,
The Angels of Light,
the Swans,
Make Up,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pylon,
Severed Heads,
Hoover,
Model 500,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
B.T. Express,
Robert Hood,
Blancmange,
Gerry Rafferty,
MC5,
Bobby Sherman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
JFA,
Freddie Wadling,
Swell Maps,
Das Ding,
Lower 48,
Lakeside,
Harpers Bizarre,
The American Breed,
Hot Snakes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Massinfluence,
Joe Finger,
Skarface,
Fear,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Absolute Body Control,
The Saints,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Graham Central Station,
Throbbing Gristle,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Five Americans,
The Music Machine,
Rites of Spring,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.