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 Haiti and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Janne Schatter to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dave Clark Five,
Nils Olav,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mission of Burma,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Durutti Column,
Magma,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yaz,
Neu!,
Ludus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
AZ,
Black Sheep,
Motorama,
Scrapy,
The Saints,
Alice Coltrane,
In Retrospect,
PIL,
a-ha,
The Fire Engines,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fad Gadget,
Wally Richardson,
The Beau Brummels,
Zero Boys,
Sarah Menescal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skarface,
Delon & Dalcan,
Quando Quango,
Dead Boys,
Mantronix,
Toni Rubio,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mad Mike,
Loose Ends,
Henry Cow,
Young Marble Giants,
Carl Craig,
Marmalade,
Infiniti,
D'Angelo,
The Moleskins,
48th St. Collective,
Little Man,
Groovy Waters,
The Smiths,
The Leaves,
L. Decosne,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bob Dylan,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
Nico,
Crispian St. Peters,
Donald Byrd,
The Slackers,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.