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 Papua New Guinea and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Isaac Hayes to the disco 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Kurtis Blow,
Eden Ahbez,
Sandy B,
Don Cherry,
The Techniques,
The Saints,
Severed Heads,
Parry Music,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Saccharine Trust,
Crash Course in Science,
Mad Mike,
Bush Tetras,
Whodini,
Dennis Brown,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Kinks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Juan Atkins,
The Trojans,
The Smoke,
Blake Baxter,
The Gladiators,
Khruangbin,
Hot Snakes,
Porter Ricks,
Crime,
The Mummies,
Gang of Four,
Icehouse,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Terry,
DJ Sneak,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Skatalites,
The Selecter,
Popol Vuh,
Eric Copeland,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eric Dolphy,
Rekid,
Prince Buster,
Sun City Girls,
Brass Construction,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Last Poets,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Section 25,
Roy Ayers,
Arcadia,
The Fugs,
Bluetip,
Darondo,
David Axelrod,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Royal Trux,
The Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Susan Cadogan,
Soft Cell,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.