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 Venezuela and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Todd Rundgren to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Brand Nubian,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sex Pistols,
Sound Behaviour,
Stiv Bators,
Inner City,
Spandau Ballet,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kaleidoscope,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronan,
L. Decosne,
Sandy B,
Dark Day,
Angry Samoans,
Kenny Larkin,
Archie Shepp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kayak,
This Heat,
F. McDonald,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Wake,
Pylon,
Brass Construction,
Model 500,
The Gories,
Clear Light,
Gregory Isaacs,
Dawn Penn,
Bang On A Can,
The Kinks,
the Association,
Monolake,
Matthew Halsall,
Toni Rubio,
Liliput,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harry Pussy,
Pantytec,
Dual Sessions,
Quantec,
Lower 48,
Fear,
MC5,
Wolf Eyes,
Bush Tetras,
Reagan Youth,
Wasted Youth,
Derrick May,
Organ,
Bill Near,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Interpol,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cymande,
One Last Wish,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eric B and Rakim,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Moody Blues,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.