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 Oman and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Los Fastidios to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Trumans Water,
Flipper,
The Wake,
X-101,
The Birthday Party,
Ultravox,
Little Man,
Gong,
Marcia Griffiths,
Swans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Anthony Braxton,
Spandau Ballet,
MDC,
Robert Görl,
The Barracudas,
Rosa Yemen,
Rufus Thomas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sam Rivers,
Johnny Clarke,
Section 25,
Deepchord,
Wally Richardson,
Barry Ungar,
Cybotron,
Letta Mbulu,
The Move,
Scratch Acid,
Newcleus,
Rod Modell,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mandrill,
Sight & Sound,
Con Funk Shun,
Pussy Galore,
Nik Kershaw,
Amon Düül II,
Drexciya,
Soul II Soul,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Excepter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fortunes,
Hot Snakes,
The Moleskins,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
Parry Music,
DJ Style,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cabaret Voltaire,
10cc,
Model 500,
Flash Fearless,
Bob Dylan,
Brand Nubian,
Lou Christie,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.