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 Argentina and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 Jimmy McGriff to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
The Zeros,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joe Finger,
AZ,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slave,
Sex Pistols,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric Dolphy,
Davy DMX,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nik Kershaw,
Mad Mike,
Wasted Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fugazi,
Cal Tjader,
Connie Case,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Graham Central Station,
Magazine,
Laurel Aitken,
KRS-One,
Jacques Brel,
Sun Ra,
Bootsy Collins,
Derrick Morgan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Beau Brummels,
Juan Atkins,
The Victims,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eddi Front,
Khruangbin,
Metal Thangz,
The Remains,
Talk Talk,
Cecil Taylor,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Human League,
K-Klass,
La Düsseldorf,
The Smiths,
Loose Ends,
Kerri Chandler,
David Axelrod,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Angels of Light,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rapeman,
Quantec,
The Saints,
Public Enemy,
Jandek,
Moby Grape,
Pagans,
Half Japanese,
Charles Mingus,
The Index,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.