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 Bahrain and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Don Cherry to the punk 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Make Up,
Basic Channel,
Marvin Gaye,
Hardrive,
Electric Light Orchestra,
James White and The Blacks,
Ice-T,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scientists,
Jeff Lynne,
Patti Smith,
The Standells,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Smog,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Flash Fearless,
Erasure,
Easy Going,
The Flesh Eaters,
Agent Orange,
Sun Ra,
The Monochrome Set,
Jacques Brel,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Real Kids,
The Raincoats,
Ten City,
Moby Grape,
The Gun Club,
Fugazi,
Leonard Cohen,
The Move,
Newcleus,
Mo-Dettes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
DJ Style,
Skriet,
Todd Terry,
Cal Tjader,
In Retrospect,
Blancmange,
The Toasters,
June Days,
Subhumans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Trumans Water,
Second Layer,
Sparks,
Soft Machine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aural Exciters,
Donny Hathaway,
Loose Ends,
B.T. Express,
Prince Buster,
Black Flag,
Talk Talk,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.