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 South Sudan and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Offenders to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
The Busters,
Max Romeo,
Eric Copeland,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Sherman,
Faust,
The Dead C,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nirvana,
X-102,
Nas,
Janne Schatter,
The Five Americans,
Matthew Halsall,
Liliput,
L. Decosne,
Sandy B,
Mantronix,
Half Japanese,
Stiv Bators,
Newcleus,
Pantytec,
Popol Vuh,
The Cowsills,
Skaos,
Throbbing Gristle,
Essential Logic,
The Invisible,
Charles Mingus,
Buzzcocks,
Symarip,
Kas Product,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Evens,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radio Birdman,
The Mummies,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Sonics,
Eurythmics,
Parry Music,
The Real Kids,
The Gun Club,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Reed,
Drive Like Jehu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Monks,
Dual Sessions,
Spoonie Gee,
Piero Umiliani,
Ituana,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Urselle,
Severed Heads,
Franke,
Soulsonic Force,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.