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 Malawi and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Chris & Cosey to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sound Behaviour,
Minnie Riperton,
Blake Baxter,
The Blues Magoos,
Moby Grape,
Suburban Knight,
Slave,
Mantronix,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Womack,
Deadbeat,
Faraquet,
Chris Corsano,
Gabor Szabo,
Idris Muhammad,
Crispy Ambulance,
Darondo,
Black Flag,
Josef K,
Ken Boothe,
Rotary Connection,
Drexciya,
Sex Pistols,
Nik Kershaw,
Nico,
Byron Stingily,
Amon Düül,
The Fire Engines,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lyres,
The Offenders,
The Pretty Things,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dorothy Ashby,
Q65,
Lou Christie,
Neil Young,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pussy Galore,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Guru Guru,
Sister Nancy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marc Almond,
The Flesh Eaters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Judy Mowatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Severed Heads,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Sound,
John Holt,
The Remains,
Black Bananas,
Visage,
Anthony Braxton,
Joyce Sims,
Soft Machine,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-Ray Spex,
The Moody Blues,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.