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 Yemen and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin 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 Rosa Yemen to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eric B and Rakim,
cv313,
Terrestrial Tones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sound Behaviour,
The Grass Roots,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Crash Course in Science,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blake Baxter,
Vladislav Delay,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cameo,
Jimmy McGriff,
K-Klass,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Average White Band,
Agent Orange,
Yusef Lateef,
Man Parrish,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marvin Gaye,
Boredoms,
Simply Red,
Chris Corsano,
Whodini,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Depeche Mode,
Bill Near,
John Coltrane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Offenders,
Terry Callier,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Brand Nubian,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Tremeloes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crooked Eye,
Sexual Harrassment,
Flipper,
Howard Jones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Malaria!,
Bang On A Can,
The Dirtbombs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Saccharine Trust,
E-Dancer,
Liliput,
Black Sheep,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deepchord,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.