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 Sierra Leone and from Woodstock.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Jawbox to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
The Dirtbombs,
Juan Atkins,
Black Sheep,
The Blues Magoos,
Q65,
Excepter,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Liliput,
Amon Düül,
B.T. Express,
Panda Bear,
Lucky Dragons,
Dark Day,
The Vogues,
Marine Girls,
Malaria!,
Angry Samoans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gabor Szabo,
Unwound,
Ultravox,
Radiohead,
The Raincoats,
Rosa Yemen,
DJ Style,
The Cowsills,
Los Fastidios,
Mad Mike,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
June Days,
Motorama,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Public Enemy,
The Sound,
Porter Ricks,
Babytalk,
Fela Kuti,
The Leaves,
The Remains,
Livin' Joy,
Mo-Dettes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Selecter,
New York Dolls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marmalade,
Underground Resistance,
World's Most,
La Düsseldorf,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Althea and Donna,
Harry Pussy,
Newcleus,
Magma,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Shoche,
The Count Five,
Lower 48,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.