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 Hungary and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Country Teasers 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Ice-T,
JFA,
Drexciya,
MC5,
The Index,
The Tremeloes,
The Names,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dark Day,
D'Angelo,
Slick Rick,
Con Funk Shun,
Essential Logic,
Surgeon,
Scrapy,
Dual Sessions,
Lightning Bolt,
Public Enemy,
Delta 5,
Byron Stingily,
Sun City Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Ossler,
Juan Atkins,
Danielle Patucci,
John Lydon,
Lungfish,
Black Sheep,
The Last Poets,
Quando Quango,
The Searchers,
The Martian,
Joe Finger,
The Gories,
Soft Machine,
T. Rex,
Crooked Eye,
The Red Krayola,
Sun Ra,
Mantronix,
Adolescents,
Amon Düül II,
Alphaville,
Laurel Aitken,
Erasure,
The Beau Brummels,
Fifty Foot Hose,
World's Most,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nico,
Sight & Sound,
Black Bananas,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quantec,
The Slackers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
ABBA,
kango's stein massive,
Bobby Sherman,
the Slits,
Severed Heads,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.