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 Malta and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer 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 Rotary Connection to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Sex Pistols,
Aural Exciters,
The Star Department,
Ken Boothe,
Black Moon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Make Up,
Lucky Dragons,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nils Olav,
Outsiders,
the Normal,
Eddi Front,
Scott Walker,
Pylon,
Tres Demented,
Throbbing Gristle,
T.S.O.L.,
Gichy Dan,
Sarah Menescal,
Michelle Simonal,
Grauzone,
The Dead C,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
DNA,
The Busters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Roy Ayers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dennis Brown,
Quadrant,
The Cramps,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Blackbyrds,
Trumans Water,
The Monks,
Scratch Acid,
Junior Murvin,
Popol Vuh,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bizarre Inc.,
Moss Icon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Thee Headcoats,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Glenn Branca,
The Last Poets,
Drive Like Jehu,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Index,
Mantronix,
The Misunderstood,
Aaron Thompson,
Todd Rundgren,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.