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 Solomon Islands and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 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 Bronski Beat to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
The Blackbyrds,
Cluster,
Average White Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mary Jane Girls,
LL Cool J,
Mars,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Smoke,
The Toasters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Association,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jawbox,
Jimmy McGriff,
Junior Murvin,
Slave,
Magma,
The Move,
Lalann,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Fortunes,
Television,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Von Mondo,
Laurel Aitken,
Mo-Dettes,
Freddie Wadling,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
La Düsseldorf,
Byron Stingily,
EPMD,
Audionom,
Los Fastidios,
B.T. Express,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rotary Connection,
Crash Course in Science,
Flipper,
Derrick May,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pole,
Hashim,
Wasted Youth,
The Slits,
Cameo,
Faraquet,
Aaron Thompson,
The Names,
Soft Machine,
Sun Ra,
Essential Logic,
Organ,
Scrapy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rekid,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.