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 Nigeria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 Y Pants to the rap 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 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 Dave Clark Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Echospace,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Real Kids,
Jacques Brel,
Ronan,
Fat Boys,
Metal Thangz,
The Stooges,
Michelle Simonal,
Sam Rivers,
Minny Pops,
Visage,
Warren Ellis,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Golliwogs,
Panda Bear,
Anthony Braxton,
Fear,
Jandek,
Wolf Eyes,
Carl Craig,
Malaria!,
The Modern Lovers,
The Young Rascals,
The Cramps,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Country Teasers,
Peter and Kerry,
Byron Stingily,
10cc,
Todd Rundgren,
The Happenings,
Unrelated Segments,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fad Gadget,
The Wake,
The Monochrome Set,
Rakim,
DJ Style,
Sparks,
Warsaw,
Tommy Roe,
Ten City,
Excepter,
KRS-One,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Japan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric Copeland,
The Mummies,
The Motions,
Cameo,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Last Poets,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pagans,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.