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 Sierra Leone and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 David Bowie 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 The Martian to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mars,
Pagans,
Black Bananas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Magazine,
John Foxx,
Das Ding,
KRS-One,
Charles Mingus,
The Smiths,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Masters at Work,
Altered Images,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Zeros,
Eurythmics,
World's Most,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Todd Rundgren,
Wally Richardson,
The Offenders,
Brick,
Marc Almond,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Porter Ricks,
K-Klass,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Slave,
Leonard Cohen,
Andrew Hill,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobby Womack,
The Durutti Column,
The Dead C,
Organ,
Deakin,
Roxette,
Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Buzzcocks,
Fela Kuti,
Bauhaus,
Lower 48,
Simply Red,
Duran Duran,
This Heat,
Agitation Free,
Can,
The Gories,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warren Ellis,
Ohio Players,
Rites of Spring,
Carl Craig,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.