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 Georgia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Absolute Body Control to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Camberwell Now,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Iggy Pop,
Sun Ra,
The Grass Roots,
Ultra Naté,
Goldenarms,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hardrive,
X-Ray Spex,
The Young Rascals,
Schoolly D,
Fat Boys,
Jawbox,
The Last Poets,
Deadbeat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kurtis Blow,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mad Mike,
Sparks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Angels of Light,
Jeff Mills,
Fluxion,
Q65,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eli Mardock,
Lightning Bolt,
The Saints,
The Cure,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eric Dolphy,
Heaven 17,
Visage,
Q and Not U,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sister Nancy,
Zapp,
Eve St. Jones,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lalann,
Crime,
June Days,
Piero Umiliani,
Blancmange,
John Holt,
PIL,
Nico,
The Raincoats,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Slackers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Style,
Faust,
Mark Hollis,
Nick Fraelich,
Avey Tare,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.