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 Slovenia and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 James White and The Blacks to the techno 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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Bauhaus,
Mr. Review,
Johnny Osbourne,
Zapp,
The Mummies,
Flash Fearless,
Yazoo,
Eric Dolphy,
The Electric Prunes,
Guru Guru,
Amazonics,
F. McDonald,
Henry Cow,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Prince Buster,
Minnie Riperton,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kayak,
X-Ray Spex,
Sugar Minott,
Darondo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eurythmics,
Pole,
The Cramps,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joe Finger,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick Morgan,
Monks,
Royal Trux,
Black Sheep,
Fatback Band,
The Victims,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Youth Brigade,
David Bowie,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bob Dylan,
Ten City,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Q and Not U,
Ludus,
The Star Department,
Danielle Patucci,
Loose Ends,
The Litter,
Toni Rubio,
The Pop Group,
48th St. Collective,
Basic Channel,
The Dead C,
The Toasters,
John Foxx,
Todd Terry,
Angry Samoans,
The Monks,
the Sonics,
Pulsallama,
Kaleidoscope,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.