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 Angola and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the techno 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Kayak,
Nas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Faust,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fuzztones,
The Music Machine,
Alison Limerick,
the Slits,
Gong,
Alice Coltrane,
Basic Channel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minnie Riperton,
Michelle Simonal,
Althea and Donna,
Letta Mbulu,
The American Breed,
L. Decosne,
FM Einheit,
Junior Murvin,
Moebius,
Lakeside,
Aural Exciters,
Warsaw,
The Standells,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nick Fraelich,
The Saints,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Agent Orange,
Nils Olav,
Ultravox,
Country Teasers,
Derrick May,
Terry Callier,
Funky Four + One,
Eric Dolphy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Sheep,
The Walker Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Ronan,
Angry Samoans,
The Index,
The Invisible,
Darondo,
Banda Bassotti,
the Swans,
Groovy Waters,
Mo-Dettes,
Severed Heads,
Bush Tetras,
Magma,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Skatalites,
Mars,
Mark Hollis,
Average White Band,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.