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 Nepal and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Association to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Goldenarms,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
Alton Ellis,
Delta 5,
Traffic Nightmare,
MC5,
Donny Hathaway,
The Flesh Eaters,
Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mo-Dettes,
Boz Scaggs,
Arthur Verocai,
Accadde A,
Jandek,
Terrestrial Tones,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wasted Youth,
Swans,
Eli Mardock,
Arcadia,
Roger Hodgson,
Blake Baxter,
Aloha Tigers,
Joe Smooth,
Das Ding,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Stockholm Monsters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Zero Boys,
The Five Americans,
Spoonie Gee,
Todd Terry,
Main Source,
Malaria!,
Hot Snakes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kurtis Blow,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Motions,
Crash Course in Science,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Drexciya,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ituana,
Pulsallama,
Cameo,
Make Up,
Motorama,
Crime,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Eric B and Rakim,
Deepchord,
Amazonics,
Fat Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Victims,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.