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 Congo 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Index to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Make Up,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
Tomorrow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tres Demented,
John Coltrane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Modern Lovers,
Sun City Girls,
Nils Olav,
Gang Green,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alison Limerick,
Fat Boys,
The Monks,
Arab on Radar,
Wire,
The Raincoats,
Barrington Levy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hashim,
Cluster,
E-Dancer,
Ornette Coleman,
Byron Stingily,
Black Sheep,
Laurel Aitken,
Pole,
the Human League,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pere Ubu,
Cheater Slicks,
Camouflage,
Zero Boys,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Symarip,
The Dead C,
Cymande,
Lakeside,
Suburban Knight,
Unrelated Segments,
Man Parrish,
The Cure,
The Skatalites,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker,
Yusef Lateef,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Underground Resistance,
The J.B.'s,
Rufus Thomas,
Reagan Youth,
The Misunderstood,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lightning Bolt,
John Lydon,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.