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 Spain and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Starr to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Pantytec,
Porter Ricks,
The American Breed,
Junior Murvin,
the Bar-Kays,
Judy Mowatt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
DJ Style,
Scratch Acid,
Stetsasonic,
Lower 48,
Crispy Ambulance,
Index,
Amazonics,
Warsaw,
Bobby Womack,
the Germs,
Blossom Toes,
The Wake,
Supertramp,
Deepchord,
Black Moon,
Jerry's Kids,
Dead Boys,
Blake Baxter,
James White and The Blacks,
Kaleidoscope,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Peter and Kerry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Qualms,
Lightning Bolt,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Sheep,
Public Enemy,
Tropical Tobacco,
One Last Wish,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Byrd,
Kool Moe Dee,
Crispian St. Peters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Angry Samoans,
The Dave Clark Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Television,
Lou Reed,
Hashim,
Tim Buckley,
Adolescents,
Matthew Halsall,
Yaz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Quantec,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pagans,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Axelrod,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.