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 Palau and from Portland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 mellotron 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the punk 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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Absolute Body Control,
Mantronix,
Gong,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roy Ayers,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Residents,
Janne Schatter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Busters,
The Gories,
Man Parrish,
The American Breed,
World's Most,
OOIOO,
Guru Guru,
New Age Steppers,
Brick,
Outsiders,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Pop Group,
The Buckinghams,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fugazi,
The Kinks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Michelle Simonal,
Camberwell Now,
The Dirtbombs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Television Personalities,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stereo Dub,
Spoonie Gee,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Piero Umiliani,
the Swans,
Rakim,
the Bar-Kays,
Excepter,
The Offenders,
Rufus Thomas,
Easy Going,
DJ Sneak,
48th St. Collective,
H. Thieme,
Delon & Dalcan,
Aural Exciters,
Sound Behaviour,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pagans,
Liliput,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Intrusion,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Vainqueur,
Oblivians,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.