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 Portugal and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Fatback Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Gories,
Faraquet,
The Vogues,
Yellowson,
Prince Buster,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Young Rascals,
Albert Ayler,
UT,
London Community Gospel Choir,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Depeche Mode,
Jeru the Damaja,
Glenn Branca,
Bill Wells,
Ultravox,
DJ Style,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Camouflage,
Amazonics,
Moby Grape,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rekid,
Godley & Creme,
The Doors,
Sam Rivers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy Collins,
Steve Hackett,
Quando Quango,
Barclay James Harvest,
Unrelated Segments,
The Evens,
Archie Shepp,
Trumans Water,
The Dead C,
Angry Samoans,
Barbara Tucker,
Silicon Teens,
Max Romeo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joey Negro,
Letta Mbulu,
Nils Olav,
Ossler,
Fear,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Certain Ratio,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Das Ding,
Kevin Saunderson,
The United States of America,
Reuben Wilson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arthur Verocai,
Adolescents,
Wolf Eyes,
The Motions,
Nas,
Pussy Galore,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.