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 Slovakia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the jazz 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ronan,
Harmonia,
Dark Day,
The Techniques,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Bananas,
The Sound,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Five Americans,
Brass Construction,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Chris Corsano,
Joe Smooth,
Fad Gadget,
Chris & Cosey,
The Last Poets,
Minutemen,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Morten Harket,
Soft Machine,
Crime,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jacob Miller,
E-Dancer,
Sly & The Family Stone,
World's Most,
Los Fastidios,
Dawn Penn,
Marvin Gaye,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Moon,
Lucky Dragons,
Rosa Yemen,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Byrd,
Slave,
Albert Ayler,
Eddi Front,
Radio Birdman,
Easy Going,
Lou Christie,
Swans,
Crooked Eye,
The Young Rascals,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Pus,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ponytail,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Junior Murvin,
Quando Quango,
Scan 7,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.