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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the punk 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
The Saints,
U.S. Maple,
Swans,
Alton Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
Fatback Band,
Arab on Radar,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eddi Front,
Chris Corsano,
Smog,
Country Teasers,
The Mojo Men,
Los Fastidios,
Peter and Kerry,
Icehouse,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crispian St. Peters,
Blancmange,
Pussy Galore,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dark Day,
Skriet,
Lower 48,
The Dead C,
Ronan,
Sister Nancy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
CMW,
The Blackbyrds,
Make Up,
Gabor Szabo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Wings,
Sun City Girls,
Josef K,
Black Moon,
Zero Boys,
Jacques Brel,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Move,
Fear,
Scientists,
H. Thieme,
L. Decosne,
Radio Birdman,
Angry Samoans,
The Invisible,
Steve Hackett,
Cheater Slicks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Guru Guru,
Marine Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gong,
DJ Style,
Young Marble Giants,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.