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 Turkmenistan and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fort Wilson Riot 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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Minnie Riperton,
Radiopuhelimet,
Iggy Pop,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blancmange,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
PIL,
Lou Christie,
Camouflage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lindisfarne,
Andrew Hill,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sixth Finger,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Soft Cell,
Judy Mowatt,
Bizarre Inc.,
Model 500,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scientists,
The Slits,
Robert Hood,
Rapeman,
R.M.O.,
Tim Buckley,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Trojans,
Panda Bear,
Theoretical Girls,
Television Personalities,
Juan Atkins,
Alton Ellis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Franke,
The Doobie Brothers,
Amon Düül II,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bluetip,
Intrusion,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stereo Dub,
Wings,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flamin' Groovies,
Peter & Gordon,
Scott Walker,
The Real Kids,
Ituana,
Subhumans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Angry Samoans,
John Lydon,
Howard Jones,
Average White Band,
Zapp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
X-102,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.