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 Fiji and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Black Bananas,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Shoche,
Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Modern Lovers,
La Düsseldorf,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eli Mardock,
Pharoah Sanders,
Saccharine Trust,
Ten City,
The Blues Magoos,
Deakin,
Robert Görl,
Susan Cadogan,
Alice Coltrane,
DNA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Basic Channel,
Niagra,
Chris & Cosey,
Barbara Tucker,
Mission of Burma,
Rekid,
Ice-T,
The Barracudas,
The Mojo Men,
Ponytail,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Leaves,
Bush Tetras,
The Monks,
Adolescents,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Victims,
Idris Muhammad,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ronan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobby Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jawbox,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Suburban Knight,
a-ha,
The United States of America,
Connie Case,
Underground Resistance,
Gang Green,
Anakelly,
Scion,
Alison Limerick,
Kaleidoscope,
Soul Sonic Force,
Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic.
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.