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 Israel and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Neon Judgement to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move 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?
Tom Boy,
Essential Logic,
Suicide,
John Coltrane,
DJ Sneak,
Absolute Body Control,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Popol Vuh,
Organ,
Althea and Donna,
Con Funk Shun,
the Normal,
Sun City Girls,
Arab on Radar,
Davy DMX,
Rod Modell,
Grey Daturas,
Malaria!,
Agent Orange,
Bluetip,
Minnie Riperton,
the Association,
Magazine,
Josef K,
Sight & Sound,
The Barracudas,
Eden Ahbez,
Pantaleimon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Connie Case,
Spoonie Gee,
Angry Samoans,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
Youth Brigade,
Roy Ayers,
Brand Nubian,
Sister Nancy,
Charles Mingus,
Gang of Four,
Mandrill,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Banda Bassotti,
Wire,
The Selecter,
Scion,
Lightning Bolt,
Television Personalities,
Soulsonic Force,
Japan,
K-Klass,
Monolake,
Crooked Eye,
Desert Stars,
Hoover,
The Moody Blues,
Skaos,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
The Human League,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.