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 Germany and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Donald Fagen 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 Alarm Clocks 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Alton Ellis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mo-Dettes,
Roger Hodgson,
Hot Snakes,
H. Thieme,
Von Mondo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sun City Girls,
Brothers Johnson,
Ituana,
Sister Nancy,
Can,
The Five Americans,
Roxette,
Derrick Morgan,
The Offenders,
The Gories,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Silicon Teens,
Boz Scaggs,
Amazonics,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Monolake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul Sonic Force,
Marine Girls,
Youth Brigade,
Kurtis Blow,
The Last Poets,
Slave,
The Fall,
Au Pairs,
The Standells,
Flipper,
Shuggie Otis,
The Sonics,
the Association,
Joe Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
The Sound,
Cameo,
Monks,
Rod Modell,
Al Stewart,
Henry Cow,
Eric Copeland,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Foxx,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Tremeloes,
Sam Rivers,
Soulsonic Force,
The Blackbyrds,
Bush Tetras,
Porter Ricks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Sonics,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.