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 Solomon Islands and from Portland.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Electric Prunes 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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
the Slits,
Zero Boys,
Groovy Waters,
The Fuzztones,
Man Parrish,
Eli Mardock,
Tommy Roe,
Slave,
Aaron Thompson,
Half Japanese,
The Martian,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fortunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Hood,
F. McDonald,
Whodini,
8 Eyed Spy,
X-Ray Spex,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
ABBA,
Nils Olav,
Heaven 17,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
Dark Day,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ponytail,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eurythmics,
Q65,
Gerry Rafferty,
Skaos,
Procol Harum,
Boz Scaggs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Machine,
Depeche Mode,
The Mojo Men,
Michelle Simonal,
Soulsonic Force,
Derrick May,
Deepchord,
Little Man,
June of 44,
E-Dancer,
The Doors,
Shuggie Otis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Johnny Clarke,
Deadbeat,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Swans,
Wally Richardson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Section 25,
Suburban Knight,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.