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 Italy and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eli Mardock to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
The Barracudas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
The Cure,
B.T. Express,
The Kinks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
Wings,
The Durutti Column,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Holt,
The Buckinghams,
Pierre Henry,
Livin' Joy,
Robert Wyatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Saccharine Trust,
Wasted Youth,
Hot Snakes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Godley & Creme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Doobie Brothers,
Letta Mbulu,
Joy Division,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Judy Mowatt,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Scientists,
The Names,
The Golliwogs,
June of 44,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Leaves,
Second Layer,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yusef Lateef,
Arcadia,
The American Breed,
The Fire Engines,
the Germs,
Deepchord,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantytec,
The Raincoats,
F. McDonald,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
R.M.O.,
Minny Pops,
The Dirtbombs,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Agent Orange,
Throbbing Gristle,
Trumans Water,
Marc Almond,
Darondo,
The Martian,
The Evens,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.