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 Kazakhstan and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Freddie Wadling to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
The Last Poets,
Eurythmics,
The Neon Judgement,
John Holt,
Tommy Roe,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sarah Menescal,
Pagans,
Bob Dylan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Stetsasonic,
Wasted Youth,
Lucky Dragons,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Standells,
Liliput,
KRS-One,
Inner City,
Angry Samoans,
Peter & Gordon,
Von Mondo,
The Real Kids,
Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Motions,
Freddie Wadling,
Thompson Twins,
Ice-T,
Desert Stars,
Neil Young,
Tomorrow,
Cymande,
These Immortal Souls,
Sex Pistols,
Laurel Aitken,
Derrick Morgan,
Slick Rick,
Joensuu 1685,
Saccharine Trust,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Evens,
The Dirtbombs,
Tubeway Army,
Todd Rundgren,
the Slits,
Skarface,
Johnny Clarke,
Massinfluence,
Eric Copeland,
Animal Collective,
New York Dolls,
Parry Music,
Porter Ricks,
The Dead C,
Rod Modell,
The Mummies,
Whodini,
Swell Maps,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.